Category Archives: Words

Marvel Zombies 3

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At some point, the continuity in which Marvel superheroes were infected by the Hunger, a flesh-craving virus that specifically targets “capes” and “masks” because of their facility with destruction[1], has become its own relevant parallel universe. Not as important as the one that started in the ’60s, not as important as the Ultimate Universe, but probably more important than any of the other parallels that have come and gone.[2] For evidence, I present Marvel Zombies 3.

Featuring a significant number of secondary heroes and villains I’ve only recently become aware of in my original-Marvel readthrough (currently February 1975), the book brings the Marvel Zombies (well, those who aren’t on a 40 year tour of their local galaxies) to that main Marvel continuity, circa 2009. Being over 30 years behind means they had characters I’ve never heard of (including the prospective heroes of the piece, Machine Man and Jocasta), but seeing the highly regimented post-Civil-War-era regular Marvel characters deal with the Zombies? Pretty cool, nonetheless. It was like giving myself odds and ends of spoilers. I wonder if that made it cooler than being only 20 years behind (or, dare I say, caught up) and catching more of the references would have been?

[1] It occurs to me that a virus that is trying to destroy all life doesn’t seem to have a very good evolutionary endgame. I wonder if a) a writer didn’t think it all the way through, b) the virus was created by someone with a larger goal and that backstory is yet to be revealed, c) it’s not a virus at all, which, to be fair, it’s not like the very few people still “alive” are good at science anymore, or d) other?
[2] I’d say that, though, wouldn’t I? After all, how many of them am I really aware of? But still.

Moving Pictures

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I have no point here but to warn you that it’s coming sometime pretty soon, but I very nearly read the next Anita Blake book here instead of Discworld. (In both cases, I only found out Tiassa was about to be released after I had / would have already started. Oops.) The plan fell apart when I realized I no longer owned “the next Anita Blake book”. I’ve corrected that now, but it came as quite a shock! So, y’know, pretty soon.

So, anyway, what I did instead was read Moving Pictures, in which Terry Pratchett uses the comedic voice that… okay, the truth is, I have either read zero or at most one book later in the series than this one, so I don’t know whether his voice gets funnier or not. I only know that it’s as funny as I have ever seen it to be, and that level of funny is entirely pleasing to me. So, there’s my caveat; let me try this again. Ahem. …in which Terry Pratchett uses the comedic voice that he has perfected over the last several books of the series to tell a story whose point, well, I really didn’t get.

Essentially, through the employment of an extremely subtle metaphorical representation of early Hollywood[1], he… well, he seems to be saying that it is dangerous for people to get wrapped up in fantasies while the real world is happening around them, since heroes will not actually appear to sweep them off their feet and/or save the day. Except, he’s writing escapist literature which gives people the same fantasies, only with words instead of frames of film. And as if that isn’t enough to undercut the entire thesis of the book, things go really off the rails once the Lovecraftian monstrosities take the stage.[2]

So I guess my point is… am I crazy? Does the book have this entirely unrelated meaning that I failed to comprehend? Am I right and it’s both inherently and internally contradictory? Either way, it was funny and had new characters I’ll probably never get to see again but will at least be excited if I do, so that’s not too bad. And everyone still says the best run of the series is ahead of me, which is even better news.

[1] Get this: he removes one of the Ls and replaces it with a space, only the space, the space isn’t in the same spot as the missing L was. Genius!
[2] On the one hand, there’s only one way I can see to interpret this complaint, which makes not actually spoiling it seem like a cowardly act. But I could be wrong, and I’ve already spoiled plenty enough already, old book that everyone except me has read or not.

Powers: Supergroup

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Superficially, the fourth volume of the Powers series appears to have borrowed heavily from the Fantastic Four mythos. Sure, the government-backed group is named FG-3 and has only the three members such a name would imply, but the long history between its members, their popularity, the wealth and merchandising, the times when the team is in some kind of interpersonal crisis? All quite familiar. The good news is that the similarities really do fall apart once the plot of Supergroup has proceeded beyond the surface. Down there in the muck, the story is chock full of dark conspiracy, several stripes of bravery, and some pretty big changes to the series’ dynamics, all while inching closer to the as-yet unrevealed underlying truths of the Powers world.

Which is a good thing: only four books in, and already most of the recognizable secondary characters have bitten it. Either Bendis intended to show a world in crisis all along, and this is a good way to make his character realize it and start working towards the solution, or else this kind of change is the only way to slow down the grinding wheel of destruction and give us a chance for alternative storylines. I think I prefer the former but expect the latter, since there are quite a few of these books left. But at least my interest in them is renewed by this solid entry, so, we’ll see!

The Wise Man’s Fear

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51tfhkACppLAfter what has perhaps been an unreasonably long time, the first of two sequels to The Name of the Wind came out earlier this month. It’s neither the longest I’ve waited for a sequel nor the most excited I’ve been for one to come out, but for a second book in a series and/or a second book ever, it is both of these things. And then, over the several weeks I took reading it, not to mention the several internet-famous people who had advanced reading copies, really a lot of people have gushed extensively about how good of a book it is, even better than the original.

All of which has conspired to make me nervous about my review of The Wise Man’s Fear. As expected, it continues the infamous Kvothe’s recounting of his life story to the biographer who had come in search of him, a story that contains magic, growing fame, bandits, faeries, revenge, chases, escapes, and quite possibly true love. And the thing is, on the one hand, I thought it was a fantastic story, with all kinds of internal and external twists, interesting and reasonable character development, and a storyline that, while just slightly uneven, is all the more believable for that; I was never bored, but neither was I ever rolling my eyes at the sense of it being a story rather than a man’s life. Kvothe himself has grown just slightly unlikeable, a sense I never got from the first book. But I don’t mind, because the bravery of the choice has paid off, and Kvothe-as-narrator seems slightly more reliable for showing his worse moments to us.

For all of that, there’s the other hand, where I didn’t find it to be a better book than the original, nor did I find Rothfuss’ prose to be as revelatory. Since I find both to be every bit as good as before, that seems like plenty enough praise in itself, and more than I’m used to, at least among the rarefied air of very good initial attempts. All the same, when I compare this review to the several others I’ve seen, I feel like I’m selling the book way too short. Maybe everyone else is like me, and the fact that a second volume is as good as a great first one is so unusual that it feels like it’s even better just by not having the expected drop-off in quality.

Toll the Hounds

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One of the very few problems with the Malazan Book of the Fallen is that, like The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, the title of the series is kind of a massive spoiler. But since it’s ten books long, and with approximately that many ancillary books published or on the way, I suppose it’s pleasant to at least have an inkling of what you’re getting into. And yet, at no point (well, okay, at very few points) does the series wallow in its bleakness. The death and tragedy serve as contrast for the heights that humankind (well, personkind, as there are lots of non-humans around, and most of them reasonably immortal to boot) can aspire to. Toll the Hounds alone covers camaraderie, duty, leadership, self-sacrifice, and even that old semi-Vulcan saw about the needs of the one outweighing the needs of the many.

Okay, and the other big problem I have is the same problem I have with every sizable series; it’s impossible to review after a certain point. Nevermind that he’s not really in this book nor that I have yet to draw in my mind a clear diagram of who is on what side of the war against him, why he among all the unlikeable gods needs to be fought, or even what he actually wants: you don’t even know who the Crippled God is! And, okay, reading over that, it doesn’t sound like I do either, and maybe that’s a valid place to start, when you consider that I’m thinking about this review in terms of an absent character. But I have nowhere to go from there either that doesn’t lead me down the same path of worries about how much is too much to repeat again and again and also where would the spoilers lie?

But, okay, I think the theme of this book is dissolution. It happens literally  during the climax, more than a few times, but that’s not really what I’m talking about; it only serves to reinforce my point. Dissolution of conspiracies, of the bonds of friendship, the decay of skills once proudly held, of family ties, and from several different directions, intent to dissolve the whole of civilization itself. (Obviously that cannot happen in the eighth book of a ten book series[1], though I am impressed by my belief that it could really be the direction the series is going.) And if that sounds bleak, just like the series as a whole does from the title, I will say again that there’s a lot of good happening, and that it is served all the better by the high contrast against the bleakness of a theme celebrating entropy’s inevitable victory.

I’ll say it again, and probably one or two more times after this, but you really ought to read Gardens of the Moon. It’s a good start to a thusfar amazing journey.

[1] Sure, it can happen in the first book of a series of any duration, if the post-apocalyptic is what the goal was all along. But not four-fifths of the way through anything, is my point. Later or earlier, okay.

Jack of Fables: Jack of Hearts

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The brilliance of splitting the Fables series by giving Jack Horner his own spin-off is that the mainstream series is free to switch to an all serious, all continuity focus while giving fans of lighter fare a place to go for that. I like both, don’t get me wrong, but all the same, I like them better separately than together, because now I know what to expect from each storyline, instead of guessing whether the next book will matter to the plot or not. (This theory probably falls apart entirely for people who read the individual comics instead of the collections, but I’ve got to say that I’m really glad the graphic novel format exists; as much as I’ve enjoyed my Marvel readings over the last years[1], the modern trend toward extended storylines fits my pleasure a lot better than changing focus every issue or three. Whether the graphic novel format led to or from extended storylines is a question for historians.[2]

The downside of reviewing a book in which you already know that the plot will be played for light comedy (nevermind how brutal or violent individual moments might be) is that probably nothing will really change, and there’s not a whole lot you can say about it except for spoiling the plot. So, to the minimal extent that I’m willing to do that, Jack of Hearts follows immediately from the events of the previous story, where Jack takes the time to tell his fellow escapees the possibly true story of how he became Jack Frost and the heads off to the warmer climes of Las Vegas, in pursuit of the two things it has in the most abundance, love and money.

On the bright side, though, the potentially very interesting story of Mr. Revise, the guy from the last book who has been capturing fables in order to remove them from pubic memory? It is not only not over, but figures to be the main arc of the Jack of Fables series, much as the war against the Adversary is the main arc of Fables. I really look forward to seeing where all it goes, though I trust Jack will stay for the most part light and comedic. Otherwise, it’s just a new series entirely, which defeats the purpose. Well, the one I laid out for it, anyway. Oh, and unrelated to almost anything else I’ve said about the book, I really hope to see more of Alice in future volumes.

[1] I’m in 1974, except that I went back to catch up on Daredevil, where I’m trapped in 1968.
[2] So, Fresh Air has a rock historian, right? I wonder how long until a show on NPR has a comic historian, and I also wonder why it cannot be me.[3]
[3] So, okay, there are a lot of really good reasons why. But still, what a cool job. If it existed, I mean.

Resident Evil – Code: Veronica – Book Two

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Remember that time when I was reading a manga-as-walkthrough graphic novel of a Resident Evil game I never finished, because at least I’d get to know how the game ended this way? And it actually spent more time showing where to find the next emblem or key or blue herb than examining the story being told, and it was pretty much terrible, but hey, end of the story without having to plug in a Dreamcast, right?

So, yeah, it turns out that while the second book is the last book I have, it is not the last book in the series.

So. That was pretty sad.

The Honor of the Queen

I do not wish to be too sick to write a review, as what if I fall behind in my reviewings? But contrariwise, what if I write a useless review to which people respond, “Hey, stop writing reviews while you’re sick, Sicky!” And then… well, I haven’t really been able to define the bad thing that happens next, probably because my head is too simultaneously congested and medicine-floaty to concentrate that long. But clearly, consequences will abound. All the same, I’ve written way too much to back down now, even if none of it has anything to do with Honor Harrington just yet.

Which, yeah, I finally read the second book of that series, The Honor of the Queen. In a lot of ways, it is a clone of the previous book. Well, sort of. At least, the setting is unchanged.[1] That setting being some 1700 years in the future, where mankind has long since spread forth from Earth, discovered the means for faster-than-light travel, only of course politics are always basically the same and now there’s a cold war between the honorable, if occasionally too doveish, Manticoran system and the wily, expansionistic and probably pinko commie Republic of Haven. You may recall (or may not, depending on how much I mentioned any of this last time) that our plucky heroine Honor Harrington got caught up in the apparent beginnings of that cold war while On Basilisk Station, with the results that she proved her pluck to herself, her subordinates, and her Queen’s military chain of command.

Now it is some years later[2], and Honor has been picked to command a task force on a diplomatic mission to a pair of backwards religious worlds that rejected all technology[3], with the result that they are insular and range from sexist to incredibly misogynistic, all of which would be good reasons to continue ignoring them and leaving them to their petty internecine religious warfare, except that they make a good buffer (or forward base, depending on whose team you are rooting for) between Manticore and Haven, much like Basilisk Station did last time. If you think this means that we’re about to be treated to another display of extreme competence in the face of insurmountable odds, during which Honor will impress allies, enemies, and neutral third parties alike with her capability and her, well, honor, then you are clearly reading the correct series. It’s interesting, because even without knowing that there are a whole bunch of books left to read, I would have known after reading the first one that there’s really no chance whatsoever that she’ll fail at what she sets her goals to, but the pacing is so much improved[4] over the first book that I was able to wring almost as much excitement out of wondering how the success would occur as I would normally spend on wondering whether it would.

Things I am looking forward to in future books: whether the revealed personality “flaw”[5] will cause her any future problems; the outbreak into an actual war of some kind between the two rival, uh, nations I guess? That’s the closest analogue, anyway. Oh, and whether the hyper-intelligent empathic cat creature will stop seeming weird eventually. At least it no longer seems tacked on.

[1] I really feel like there’s a distinction I’m about to draw here, in which I define the setting more precisely instead of just saying the most uselessly inane piece of information ever presented in a review by anyone, ever. Nevertheless, the fact of my aforementioned sickness is definitely rearing its head, if only in my head.
[2] These years are not very relevant since most everyone in the developed parts of the galaxy has access to life extension technology. Yay, the future!
[3] I know. Believe me, I know. So do all of the characters. Weber’s penchant for straw men may start to grate on me, I reckon, unless he gets a little more circumspect about them.
[4] Seriously, from about the midpoint of the book on, there was very little action that did not feel climactic. Which makes up for quite a fair amount of previous political strawmanship, let me tell you.
[5] Scare quotes because of how certain I am that Weber doesn’t really consider it a flaw at all, despite that he acknowledged why it could be troublesome.

Lucifer: Evensong

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The fundamental story being told in the Lucifer series was over at the conclusion of the previous book, which is as it should be.  I have realized while reading Evensong and contemplating my review of it that how a story ends matters to me a great deal. I mean, certain series which I read for the sake of humor and masochism (and am probably overdue on another entry from) aside, the ongoing story will need to be good for me to care about it at all. But the dividing line between the merely competently entertaining and the sublime that will stay with me for years ahead? The strength of the ending will almost certainly be the surest tell.

All that to say that I feel like the strength of this ending is the closest Carey has come in his quest[1] to match Gaiman’s Sandman. It hit all the right notes of regret, yearning for more but acceptance that the wind has blown an ending, tying some loose ends while leaving others conspicuously unknotted… it was an end, is what I mean, and what I also mean is that I really don’t see one that satisfies me all that often.[2] I can tell when I dislike them, as evidenced by everything I’ve read by Dan Simmons, but the ability to recognize that I actively like one and it has really added to my opinion of the whole? That is a new gift that I’ll enjoy all the more for getting to talk about it. It also explains why I like ongoing series as well as I do. With no end in sight, the let down is all but impossible. And then there are some series that make a conscious choice not to end, which may work pretty well or not, depending on who you are. (It’s such a massive spoiler that I can’t even mention what series I’m talking about, though it wouldn’t be a spoiler to say I believe the Wheel of Time will head in the same direction. I mean, that spoiler is right in the name.)

Anyway, clever readers will note I’ve spent almost no time talking about this book, and that’s a feature since it being both a grand denouement and an eleventh volume makes it tricky to say anything that wouldn’t be a spoiler for, at the least, earlier books in the series. But I will reiterate again (once per paragraph, yo!) that it was entirely satisfying, and I don’t really regret that there won’t be more to come. Which is maybe the highest praise I can pay any series, even though in another context it could be the lowest insult. Still, the difference between the two is clear!

[1] I suppose I should not ascribe to him motivations that aren’t in evidence, but despite one of the points of the series being that filial obligations… chafe, I can’t believe he spent no time comparing his work to the one it sprang from.
[2] Did I just restate my topic sentence? MAYBE.

Resident Evil – Code: Veronica – Book One

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Did you ever find yourself wishing that someone would write a manga-style graphic novel that comprised a blend of two parts recap to one part walkthrough of a game that was first released for the Sega Dreamcast? If so, your troublingly narrow desire has been granted in the Resident Evil – Code: Veronica series, which… well, I’ve pretty much said all that there is to say about it, haven’t I? Still, you may be wondering exactly why I’d have bothered to own and read such a thing my own self, to which I can only respond that a) I wasn’t aware of the strategy-guide-like feel of the book until I read it today[1] and b) I never did actually finish the game itself, one of the very few Resident Evil games for which that is the case (well, besides the last couple, but I was much better at it in The Past, is what I’m saying), so it will be nice to have the knowledge gap plugged in.

In case you’re wondering, the manga thing is, while largely distasteful, not a bar to entry.

[1] Seriously, it included a couple of the “take this crest to that recessed panel to unlock the next area” puzzles, not to mention an honest-to-god green herb.