Lies, Damned Lies, and Micro-Reviews

The “lies” part is that these are micro-reviews, because my ability to summarize has got sloppy: I may (gasp!) go into four sentences at times.

The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove (Christopher Moore, 1999) – This humour novel is about a psychiatrist who secretly starts prescribing placebos to her patients around the same time a horny, hungry sea monster shows up to, um, rampage through the town. There’s lots of sex, drugs, and blues (sorry, no rock ‘n’ roll), and lots of delicately intertwined subplots featuring a large cast of quirky characters. That said, although I found this wild and amusing, it’s not really my kind of humour, which I prefer more in the forms similar to those Terry Pratchett, Eddie Izzard, and K. Beaton — mea culpa.

The Last Ghost (aka Spellbinder, Helen Stringer, 2009)  – I’m a sucker for stories that involve friendly ghosts, although, that said, this isn’t quite the type I normally mean by that phrase. Belladonna Johnson is a regular girl who can see spirits, which is lucky, on account of her parents died in a car crash and now she lives with their ghosts. However, when ghosts all over the city start disappearing, it’s up to her and her friends to figure out what’s going on and bring them back. Lively adventures, great kid characters, and cool ideas, but I’m already up a sentence from my guidelines(!!!), so let’s just say I hope the sequel comes out soon.

Murder in Gray and White (Corinne Holt Sawyer, 1989) – Two stubborn widows living at a retirement community investigate a series of murders that begin when the most disliked new resident is found dead. On one hand, I liked the headstrong female protagonists, who go off on their own explorations against the explicit instructions of the police, and I liked the way their old age seemed physically realistic, like they tire often and so forth. On the other hand, I’m not sure I found the solution to the mystery very interesting, and I got a little tired of jokes about how sometimes elderly people are ditzy or behind the times.

Bimbos of the Death Sun (SharynMcCrumb, 1988) – Another murder mystery, but this one set at a gently sent-up science fiction conference, where the murder takes a long time to happen and feels almost incidental to the off-the-wall atmosphere. This book has an 80s feel to it, but anyone who’s even dabbled in the waters of Star Trek, Xanth, LARPs, D&D, etc. will recognize familiar archetypes. I can’t say the mystery itself was so great, but that’s actually a recommendation for the book: I kept reading even though I didn’t care who the killer was because the story was just so fun.

The Screwtape Letters (C. S. Lewis, 1942) – It’s funny that I never thought until now to read more of C. S. Lewis’s stuff outside the Narnia series, but I’m glad I didn’t, because it’s like I saved my dessert for last. This series of letters from an older devil trying to instruct his nephew in the fine art of securing a man’s soul is warmly written, although no doubt those like me who disagree with some of Lewis’s religious and political convictions will find parts of it tiresome. And yet… let me put it this way: when I read Harry Potter or watch House, I’m struck by all the ways in which the authors claim to agree with me that aren’t actually reflected in their story. But when I read Lewis, I notice how many wise things he has to say, despite the fundamental differences of opinion he claims we have.

Brat Farrar (Josephine Tey, 1949) – The ending of this book is disappointingly predictable to anyone who’s even a passing fan of murder mysteries, but it’s worth a read. The titular Brat is persuaded to pose as the missing elder twin brother of a young British aristocrat about to come into his inheritance, and of course in doing so, he uncovers old family secrets, most of which are to do with said missing twin brother. Even though you can guess what’s coming a third of the way through, Brat is a charming enough character that the reader wants to know what happens to him and how he’s going to navigate this mystery while at the same time not exposing his own imposture.

Tigerheart (Peter David, 2008) – (Yes, that Peter David.) A beautiful, beautiful re-imagining of the Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up. Don’t want to say more, on account of I think I might want to discuss it in greater detail in a future blog on Peter Pan. But fair warning: this book is considered a novel for adults, and if you don’t know that (as I didn’t), there’s definitely an implied scene that will surprise you.

Fly By Night (Frances Hardinge, 2005) – This story of a young girl (who loves words) and her goose (who probably doesn’t, but who knows?) is set in a richly imagined fantasy world, where people worship various minor dieties and ideological revolutions are tearing civilization apart. The author mentions she based some of her details on the real-life furor surrounding the birth of the printing press, and it shows, in a cool way. That said, this book does require some patience: it took me a while to get into it, for the plot to heat up enough that I wanted to know what happened next.

Magic Below Stairs (Caroline Stevermer, 2010) – Couldn’t put this one down (sorry, students whose exams I was supposed to be marking). The story of Frederick, an orphan who becomes a footman at the house of the wizard Lord Schofield only to discover danger on the horizon, slots into Stevermer and Wrede’s Enchanted Chocolate Pot series, although it’s certainly a less hearty read. But the characters are interesting, the plot layers on fast and fun, and Stevermer’s quirks of humour put a smile on the reader’s face.

The Tempest (Julie Taymor, 2010) – This adaptation of Shakespeare features Helen Mirren as a female Prospera, Ben Whishaw as naked Ken-doll Ariel, and Djimon Hounsou as awkwardly-the-only-person-of-colour Caliban. Judicious cuts and occasional additions to the text improve the pacing and logic of the story, although perhaps in a way that’s only appreciable if you know the original. Visually, everything (and everyone) is very pretty, if somewhat self consciously so, and there’s a sense of emotional satisfaction at the end whose cause I still can’t quite explain, but it’s still The Tempest: fragmented, abrupt, and dreamlike.

New Super Mario Bros. Wii (Nintendo Wii, 2009) – Best. Wii game. Ever. Old-school 2D Mario platforming with the added goodness of four players able to join in the action at once (aka, no fighting with your siblings for who gets the controller next). Sure, you can beat the game by yourself, but why would you, when it’s so much more fun to beat it as a team? You have to have a group with similar goals who can work together, but so far, I think the most fun I’ve had playing Wii is spending, like, five hours on Christmas Day playing through Worlds 1 to 4 with my sister, Debra, and our cousin, Daniel. Thanks for the birthday present, Deb!

Despicable Me (Pierre Coffin & Chris Renaud, 2010) – A has-been villain named Gru adopts three orphaned girls to further his newest evil scheme, and if you can’t guess the end before it happens, it’s safe to assume this is the first movie you’ve ever seen. The whole thing comes across as trying too hard, too worried about being original and making wacky jokes to remember to develop the emotional heart of the story in an organic and believable way. Enh.

Tangled (Nathan Greno & Bryan Howard, 2010) – My favourite moment of this Disney take on Rapunzel was when, the titular character, about to escape from her tower for the first time in 18 years, suddenly paused to sing about her feelings, and the frustrated teenage guy sitting in front of me burst out, “Jesus!” Yeah, this movie was okay, but none of the characters, plotlines, or jokes in it really excited me as new or interesting. It felt a step behind glorious new offerings like last year’s The Princess and the Frog and classics like The Lion King.

Sleights of Mind: What the Neuroscience of Magic Reveals About Our Everyday Deceptions (Stephen Macknik and Susana Martinez-Conde with Sandra Blakeslee, 2010) – Very interesting book, although sometimes naive about history of magic/conjuring (example: most historians of magic agree that Robert-Houdin’s autobiography is full of lies. In a good way, but still: do not take a story from it verbatim and assume it’s 100% true). If you’ve taken a first-year undergrad psych class, little of the neuroscience will be news to you; likewise, if you’ve done even rudimentary readings on conjuring, little will surprise you. However, the two concepts put together make for a fascinating and fun read.

The Tragedy at Tiverton (Raymond Paul, 1984) – This historical mystery, set in the early 19th-century eastern US, tells the story of a scoundrelly young lawyer, our narrator Christy, and his genius-lawyer-type mentor, Quincannon, and eventually, how together they defend a minister accused of murder. It takes a long time to get to the murder, though, and we get a lot of interesting but homicide-free plot stuff first, like how Christy seduces a young woman and then ends up falling for her. Good read, lively characters, evocative setting – only sometimes, it’s tough not to think, “Well, main characters, if you weren’t being a$$holes, you wouldn’t be in this fix, now, would you?”