Category: Reread Project Page 1 of 4

REREAD PROJECT: All Our Wrong Todays (Audiobook) by Elan Mastai: It’s Still The Best Time Travel Novel I’ve Encountered

DETAILS: 
Publisher: Penguin Audio
Publication Date: Feb 7, 2017
Format: Unabridged Audiobook
Length:10 hrs., 2 min.
Read Date: April 4-6, 2023

This is largely a reworking of my post about the ARC for this novel that I received from Dutton via NetGalley, but there’s some new material thrown in as well.

What’s All Our Wrong Todays About?

Avery Brooks famously asked, “Where are the flying cars? I was promised flying cars! I don’t see any flying cars! Why? Why? Why?” Elan Mastai’s book finally provides the answer. Simply put: we had it—flying cars, routine space flights, robots/other tech dressing us, feeding us, doing the everyday jobs that need to be done so that humans can focus on working in labs to make the world an even better place, to make the next technological leap forward. Essentially, everything that Science Fiction of the 1950’s told us to expect, we lived in George Jetson’s world.

Until July 11, 2016 when the first time machine was turned on and things went wrong, resulting in 40 years of history being rewritten and one man—Tom Barren—was the only one to know that we are now living in a dystopia. It’s a dystopia for everyone on Earth, but Tom, that is—his life in the 2016 that we know is much better than it was in the “original” 2016. So now Tom has to decide, does he try to restore the timeline (if he can even figure out how to do so), or does he keep things the way they are?

That’s less than you can see on Goodreads/Mastai’s site/Web retailers—and yet I think I gave away too much. But really, that’s barely scratching the surface.

The Science Part of Science Fiction

There’s a great mix of detail to the science (at least the ideas and theories behind it), yet keeping it at the level where we don’t get bogged down in technicalities (and kept Mastai from having to work them out)—he gets away with it by comparing it to the way that we don’t really understand how hydroelectric dams or incandescent light bulbs work.

This is the way to do Science Fiction for me—give me just a hint about the science, enough to make it plausible, but don’t get me details. My eyes gloss over and I frequently skim it, especially if it goes too long. I’m sure this disqualifies me from being a Hard SF fan. But I’m okay with that.

Chapter 56

Oooh, boy. Speaking of things to skim—many readers (particularly a handful of those who read this space) will want to skim Chapter 56—or skip it entirely if they listen to the audiobook.

I think it’s a mistake to do so, but I get the impulse.

It’s the literary equivalent to that scene from The Wire‘s 4th episode—it’s a mixture of genius and profanity and poetry. Mostly profanity.

It consists of two words, both of which are some of the “bigger” words on Carlin’s list of words that you can’t say on TV, or some of the middle words in McWhorter’s Nine Nasty Words.

In the audiobook version, it’s 2 minutes long. Mastai does a masterful job of varying the way he utters each blue syllable to convey meaning and make it more than just a monotonous stream of profanity.

While glancing at his Twitter feed, I saw Matsai commenting that “I find it endlessly amusing that every few months [an image] this page of my novel goes viral.” It’s really kind of sad that this chapter gets this much attention when the rest of the chapters (which are better in so many ways) barely get any attention at all—at least that I can see.

Putting aside the couthness of the vocabulary—in context it works so well, it encapsulates everything going through Tom’s mind in the moment as he realizes just how monumentally everything has gone wrong with his impetuous move.

How’s Mastai’s narration?

It’s almost as good as his writing—and I loved the writing. As always, I get nervous when I see that a writer does their own audiobook narration, but Penguin knew what they were doing when they put him behind the microphone. He’s a natural performer and gets the emotions of every scene perfectly, the nuances for the characters, when to ratchet up the tension and when to let things relax.

It’s obvious when you think about it—but not every author is capable of conveying what they know about a book through a performance. Matsai is one of the exceptions. I’d pay to hear him narrate other people’s work, too.

So, what did I think about All Our Wrong Todays?

In my original post, I’d said, “We’re going to be talking about Elan Mastai the way we recently talked about Ernest Cline or Andy Weir next year (assuming I can predict anything)—and he deserves it.” Sadly, it appears that I can’t predict anything. Because we’re not–and we should be. The voice grabs you right away from the humor, the honesty—the trouble with time travel grammar. I really wish that Jonathan Tropper’s endorsement of the book wasn’t right there on the front cover, because it feels like a cheat to compare Mastai to him now, but I want to. He’s got the same mix of humor, heart, drama, and inspiration as Tropper, he just blends science fiction themes in with those. The Tropper comparison is from the original post, too—now I’d add a comparison to Mike Chen–it’s the same kind of mix of heart, family, and SF (although Chen’s work was published later).

Tom Barren’s a great character (a questionable person, but a great character) that you’ll love spending time with. There are really a lot of great characters here, but he’s the only one I feel safe discussing. There are characters with warts, strengths, weaknesses, courage, bravery, and humanity in all shapes and sizes—some noble, some despicable, some pathetic. As is frequently the case, seeing multiple versions of the same characters in the various timelines tells you a lot about the people and/or worlds they live in.

Tom’s father, the one who developed the time machine—has some fantastic theories about time travel—it’s not just about time, it’s about space (between the earth’s rotation, movement through space, etc.), and for time travel to be really possible, both have to be addressed. Not only does it clear the TARDIS from every critique of time travelers/machines mentioned in the book, but it’s a really, really good point.

It’s one of those magic books that you don’t want to end, because you’ll have to leave the characters and world—but that you can’t get through fast enough because you just have to know how it turns out.

Is it flawless? No, I’m sure it’s not, but unlike almost every other book I’ve read this year (including the ones I’ve loved), I can’t think of a single problem. That says a lot to me. On a re-read, I’m not still not sure I can point to a problem. There are scenes I don’t like—but that’s because they’re effective in portraying darkness, and they were right to do so. But a deficiency? Nope, can’t think of one.

I’d originally said, “I have not been able to stop talking about this book for a week now—I think my wife and kids have started ignoring me when I bring it up. All Our Wrong Todays is a book that practically demands over-hyping—it’s only a huge amount of restraint that keeps me from spilling everything. I have a list of people I want to buy this for (started compiling it when I was about 10% finished), and the list is currently long enough now that I wouldn’t be able to buy any books for myself until June 2017 — so, sorry everyone, buy your own.” I still can’t stop talking about it, and bring it up anytime someone asks about Time Travel fiction, SF with heart, or just someone needing a book that’s not their normal genre.

My original conclusion was this: “I don’t know if I’ll be able to watch/read more time travel again—especially time travel involving love stories—but man, it’s absolutely worth it if this was my last.” I’ve read 3-4 time travel books (and a couple of Doctor Who-tie ins) since then, so it wasn’t my last–but the only one that’s come close to being as good was Chen’s Here and Now and Then. I enthusiastically recommended it then, I’m just as enthusiastic in my recommendation now—in either format. I’m annoyed that it took me so long to come back to this as a re-read, and I’m promising myself I won’t put it off that long again.

5 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, the opinions expressed are my own.

He Drank, and Saw the Spider (Audiobook) by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki: LaCrosse’s Break from His Vacation Changes History

By HCNewton

On March 1, 2021

In Alex Bledsoe, Audiobook, Eddie LaCrosse, Fantasy, Fiction, Reread Project

Like with the previous Eddie LaCrosse audiobook, The Wake of the Bloody Angel, I can’t think of much more to say than I did in 2014 when I read the book. But, this is the last one in the series, and I can’t just let this pass unremarked. So I shuffled it a bit, cleaned a couple of things up, and added bit here and there. That’s not cheating too much, is it?

He Drank, and Saw the Spider

by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki (Narrator)
Series: Eddie LaCrosse, #5

Unabridged Audiobook, 9 hrs., 6 min.
Blackstone Audio, 2014

Read: February 16-19, 2021

Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

I felt that little knot in my belly that meant a mystery was taking its irrevocable hold. Usually this was a good thing, because usually I got paid for it. But here and now I was on vacation, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend it unraveling the truth of the strange prince, his rotund protector, and the girl I’d once saved from a bear. But damn it, I knew that’s exactly what I was going to do.

What’s He Drank, and Saw the Spider About?

After a couple of adventures that aren’t quite typical in their nature, Eddie La Crosse gets back to basics with a fairly straightforward case. Well, that’s not exactly true—it’s just that the last was more grand-adventure-y, less LaCrosse-as-sword-jokey, and the one before that took on this epic nature by the end. This is Eddie doing what he does best. But still, there’s magic and monsters, and all the other trappings that keep this from being something that Sue Grafton or Dennis Lehane would’ve written.

Sixteen years ago, Eddie promised a dying man on the run that he’d take care of the baby that the other man was running to protect. He found a seemingly-trustworthy family willing to take the infant in, and went on his merry way, and actually forgot all about the incidents surrounding that. Years later, Eddie and his girlfriend, Liz, are on vacation in that area and suddenly it all comes back to him and he decides to try and track down the (now) young woman and see how she’s doing.

Naturally, things start to go poorly about there. He does find her—pretty easily, too—it is a small community, with an economy largely-based on sheep-herding and farming, so it’s not really a bustling metropolis where no one knows anyone else. But there’s a whole lot of interesting things happening around the young woman—royalty in disguise, a meddling sorceress, an untrustworthy mercenary-type, an over-protective mother, a dose of sibling rivalry, and some sort of articulate and super-strong inhuman creature with a healthy interest in the girl.

Even though he was just supposed to check on her and not interfere with her life—he had no intention of even introducing himself to her. Eddie can’t help himself, and before you know it, he’s neck-deep in intrigue and danger.

Biggest Magic Yet

When you think about Fantasy novels (or maybe I should just say “I”, who knows what you think) you think about magic all over the place. But if it’s really that ubiquitous, that takes away some of the special-ness of magic. In LaCrosse’s world, almost no one believes in magic. Eddie sure wouldn’t if magic, deities, and supernatural creatures hadn’t rubbed their existence in his face on repeated occasions.

That’s certainly the case here—most of the people that Eddie is around in this novel (and by most, I mean an overwhelming majority) refuse to admit that what they are seeing—some of them on multiple occasions—has anything to do with magic. I think this is a great choice—it’s another hurdle for Eddie and Liz to get over, it adds some real tension when you’d be tempted to think we’re done with tension, and it keeps the magic mysterious.

Rudnicki’s Narration

I think this is probably Rudnicki’s best work in the series. he nails every character—particularly the character of Billy Cudgel (the aforementioned untrustworthy mercenary-type). He captures the humor, the drunkenness, the misery, the madness, and everything else. I thought the choices he makes in the narration (he and/or the director) and tone were spot-on. He’s definitely a narrator I’m going to seek out in the future.

So, what did I think about He Drank, and Saw the Spider?

On the whole, this is a fun, brisk novel—a lot of humor, some good action, nice banter, and interaction between the characters (especially Eddie and Liz). Yet, even as the answers to the questions surrounding the girl’s mysterious origins become obvious, and some of the characters get to the point where they seemed irredeemable, Bledsoe (as he can every so well) keeps you completely drawn in and even tugs the heartstrings a bit as the truth is revealed to the characters. Just really, really well done.

There’s a lot of nice little touches along the way. For example, towards the end of the book, Eddie and those he’s traveling with encounter a preteen who joins their little band for a while. She’s pretty new to swearing and tries to get in as much practice as she can while with them. At first, I thought she was an odd (but entertaining) and pointless distraction. It didn’t take too long to see she was a perfect tension-breaker, just what that part of the novel needed to keep from being too tense and so much more serious than what had come before.

Eddie’s narration has never been better—humor-tinged and hard-boiled, a medieval Philip Marlowe or Elvis Cole. I liked all of these characters, and really wanted to spend more time with each of them—I don’t know how Bledsoe could’ve pulled that off without getting the whole thing too slow and ponderous (which would’ve sucked the fun out of 60-70% of these characters). This is really such a well-done and fully realized series.

Either Bledsoe or his publishers decided that was enough, and it doesn’t look like we’re going to get any more adventures from our favorite sword-jockey, but man, I’m glad we got what we did.

4 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Wake of the Bloody Angel (Audiobook) by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki: A Search for A Needle in a Very Wet Haystack

By HCNewton

On January 27, 2021

In Alex Bledsoe, Audiobook, Eddie LaCrosse, Fantasy, Fiction, Reread Project

Small confession, before trying to write this post, I read my 2014 post from when I first read the novel, and it struck me that I didn’t have much else to say. So I shuffled it a bit, cleaned a couple of things up, and added bit here and there. That’s not cheating too much, is it?

Wake of the Bloody Angel

by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki (Narrator)
Series: Eddie LaCrosse, #4

Unabridged Audiobook, 8 hrs., 51 min.
Blackstone Audio, 2012

Read: November 27-30, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

What’s Wake of the Bloody Angel About?

I looked up at the stars. Finding one pirate after twenty years was a lot like picking one star out of this sky. Just when you thought you had it, a cloud slid by and you had to start all over when it passed.

Yet that’s just what Eddie LaCrosse sets out to do—find the unfindable, track the untrackable. For those of you who don’t know—Eddie lives in a fairly standard fantasy realm, and makes his living as a “sword jockey”—what we’d call a P.I. in our world. These books are first-person narratives and read a lot like good detective novels—but with swords, horses, and the occasional dragon or whatnot.

Eddie doesn’t go alone on his search for a pirate—he brings along his old friend/colleague, Jane Argo. Jane’s a former pirate turned pirate hunter turned sword jockey and is as tough as that résumé suggests. Having her come along on this adventure as the Hawk/Joe Pike figure was a great addition to a series that I didn’t think required it. But now, I want more of her—back in Eddie LaCrosse #6, or in Jane Argo #1. I could be pleased either way, as long as it’s soon.

A Killer Line

Every now and then, in the middle of this fun read, Bledsoe reminds you he can do more than tell a fun action story, and drop a sentence, or phrase that shows he’s just a good writer, period. One such line that stood out to me, and I’ve tried to find excuses to use in the last couple of days is:

Hawk’s been called many things over the years, but you know what captures him best, in my opinion? That he’s simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up.

You get a real clear idea about this Hawk guy, the image is pretty creepy in and of itself, and yet, it looks and sounds breezy unless you think about it. I like Eddie and the rest of his world plenty—but it’s that kind of thing that keeps me coming back to Bledsoe.

What I found interesting as I re-read what I wrote years ago is this very line. I’d completely forgotten it in the intervening years, but when I heard it, I mentioned it to a coworker and at least one family member, and even tweeted about it. It struck me as a perfect line in 2014, and it did the same again in 2020. I clearly have a well-defined taste and will probably rave about it the next time I read/listen to this novel.

The Paranormal

The last thing I can think to note is that this book briefly features the creepiest little girl I can remember since Let the Right One In. I really can’t talk about her without ruining too much, but let me just say that absolutely loved the way that Bledsoe used her. And no, I’m not going to talk about why I mention her under “The Paranormal.”

For a Fantasy series, Bledsoe is very careful—almost stingy—with his use of magic and the paranormal. But when he uses it? It’s so effective. We get just a few incidents of it here and I love watching the choices Bledsoe makes regarding them.

The Narration

Obviously, as it was over 6 years ago that I read the book, I could be wrong about this, but I think that Rudnicki’s narration added another layer to the novel, and it struck a deeper chord with me. It’s not like I didn’t enjoy the book when I read it, but listening to it seemed to be more effective. I attribute that solely to Rudnicki. He just does a great job not only with Eddie, but with all the other characters—Jane Argo and the last new character we meet in particular.

So, what did I think about Wake of the Bloody Angel?

There’s adventure, piracy, sword-play, banter, friendship, and a bit of betrayal. That’s pretty much what you want in a novel like this, right?

Bledsoe did a great job of nailing the life of a ship (says the guy who gets too seasick to even contemplate a day-long voyage)—both the tedium of day-to-day and the excitement of boardings (or other adventures at sea).

I couldn’t have seen the ending coming, nor the details it revealed. But it worked, it absolutely worked both as interesting plot development, and as strong character moments. So well done.

I’ve only got one novel in this series to go, and I’m excited to get to it, but I don’t want things to end. That’s a good place to be.

4 Stars

Classic Spenser: Early Autumn by Robert B. Parker

By HCNewton

On August 31, 2020

In Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, P-U, Reread Project, Robert B. Parker, S-Z, Spenser

Classic Spenser

Early Autumn

by Robert B. Parker
Series: Spenser, #7

Mass Market Paperback, 221 pg.
Dell Publishing, 1981

Read: July 29, 2020

This is the least “Spenser”-ish of the Spenser novels, and it’s the most quintessentially “Spenser”-sh. If that’s possible. I’ve probably read it more than any other in the series and probably could’ve written 75% of what I’m going to end up saying here without cracking it open. But why deny myself?

I’m going to try to keep this from getting out of control, but no promises.

Please. I have no one else. Please.”

“There’s a qustion whether you need anyone else,” I said, “but I’ll take a whack at it on one condition.”

“What?”

“You tell me your name so I’ll know where the bill gets sent.”

She smiled. “Giacomin,” she said, “Patty Giacomin.”

“Like the old Ranger’s goalie,” I said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Gentleman of the same name used to be a hockey player.”

“Oh. I”m afraid I don’t follow sports much.”

“No shame to it,” I said. “Matter of not being raised properly. Not your fault at all.”

She smiled again, although this time it was a little unsure, as if now that she had me she wasn’t certain she wanted me. It’s a look I’ve seen a lot.

What’s Early Autumn About?

Patty Giacomin comes to Spenser (in a newly relocated office, this will be important a few books from now) for help, her ex-husband has taken their teenaged son in some sort of revenge move. She wants Spenser to get him back. He does so, in possibly the dullest scene in the series (only because it was so easy). This is not the kind of stuff we read P.I. novels for—Paul’s back home by page 30.

Three months later, a stranger attempts to kidnap Paul, but he escapes. Patty hires Spenser to stay with them and protect Paul—and her, after the would-be kidnapper and an accomplice try to break in and take Paul. Spenser interferes with that plan, but Paul’s safe, Patty’s eventually kidnapped by these men, and the exchange is set up, son for mom.

Spenser and Hawk interfere with that plan, and this time it gets a bit more violent. Clearly things are going to keep escalating, so they need another tack. It’s decided that Patty will lie low with a friend for a while, and Spenser and Paul will go out of town until the heat dies down. Spenser had promised to build a cabin for Susan on some property in Maine, so he and the boy head off to do that.

At this point, it’s not just about keeping Paul safe for Spenser. He’s trying to help the kid—trying to push him into being an autonomous person with skills and interests. Angela Duckworth would say that Spenser’s trying to foster grit in Paul, who certainly needs something.

Clearly, Mel Giacomin has some less-than-savory friends/business associates if he can get this kind of help. Spenser moves the bodyguarding to the side and beings investigating—why would Mel be able to find this kind of help? Would knowing this give Spenser the leverage to get Mel out of Paul’s life?

Paul

When we first meet Paul, he’s a sullen, almost affect-less fifteen year-old whose major form of communication is a shrug. He has no interests, few friends, really doesn’t seem to care which parent he’s with, and would rather just sit around watching syndicated reruns all day than worry about any of this. (one can only imagine how a Paul would be written today with hundreds of cable channels, Netflix (and the rest)—not to mention the Internet—rather than the few choices that 1981 TV provides.

When Spenser starts to teach him to exercise, to box, and to swing a hammer, Paul couldn’t care less about any of it. He goes along because he has nothing better to do (there’s no TV at the cabin) and because Spenser’s not really taking no for an answer. Soon Paul goes along with it because he’s seeing and feeling the results of an active lifestyle.

When Spenser gets ready to investigate his parents, Paul’s more than willing to tag along and help. He’s not a budding P.I., this isn’t Spenser adding a Robin to his Batman. It’s Paul exercising some self-determination. By the end of the novel, he knows who his parents are. He understands their motivations and what they’re like when they’re not being some of the lousiest parents you’ll encounter in print. More than that, he’ll know the kind of man he wants to be and he’ll know how he wants to become that kind of man.

Susan

Previously to now, we’ve seen Susan understand and support Spenser’s work. She may not enjoy it or agree with his methods, but she understands and supports him—even assists him as best as she can (when feasible). But that’s not the case in Early Autumn, she discourages Spenser from following his plan. She’s outright critical about parts of it, and spends most of the novel in one “funk” (Spenser’s word) or another. This case, and Spenser’s approach to it, puts a strain on their relationship, and it’s easy to understand why that is from her perspective (his, too, neither are wrong).

While Susan doesn’t seem to come across all that well for much of the book, she does come across as human. She’s not perfect, she’s a little jealous, she’s put out that Spenser will just drop strangers on her front door with no warning claiming to be in danger. But when the chips are down, she pitches in, and eventually embraces Spenser’s mission regarding Paul. In a few years, we won’t see that complex of a reaction from Susan. The character (and the series) will be less for that, so when possible, I’ve got to enjoy it.

Hawk

We get a scene in this book that in my mind we get a lot more than Parker actually wrote (although it does show up in Spener: For Hire a few times), someone has contacted Hawk about a hit on Spenser. Something Hawk would never do, but not too many people know that. It’s a great scene, and Hawk seems to enjoy it more than even I do.

He’s not around for much of this book, but when he is, it matters. I don’t think Hawk’s appearances before now have qualified, but I’d say he steals almost every scene he’s in. It’s one of those cases where a supporting character becomes as, if not more, beloved than the series protagonist/central character.

He’s ruthless, he’s dependable, and he does what he thinks is necessary—even when it conflicts with Spenser’s wishes—because he thinks Spener’s soft. Frequently, he lets Spenser’s “rules” get in the way of what he wants to do. But this time, he won’t–because he’s convinced it’ll get Spenser killed, and then Hawk would have to come along and get revenge later. He’d rather cut out the middle stuff and take care of it now. No matter what Hawk, Spenser, and others may say about the two of them being the same. They’re not. And it’s because of things like this.

The Criminal Investigation

As I said before, it’s obvious that Mel Giacomin is up to something. Upstanding citizens don’t enlist criminal help in a custody case (they wouldn’t know how). Spenser and Paul take very little time or effort (although there is some, helping Paul increase his grit) to uncover enough to send his father to jail—or to blackmail him into supporting Paul’s education while keeping him safe from further abductions.

It’s a step or two above perfunctory, and it really doesn’t matter. The core of this book is Paul. Paul and his relationship to his parents. Paul and Spenser. Paul starting to think and act on his own behalf, making choices, and being autonomous to whatever degree he can. Parker has to throw in the criminal activity because Spenser’s not Spenser without a villain to thwart. Also, how else would it stay in the genre?

So, what did I think about Early Autumn?

You’ve gotten yourself in a lot of trouble over this, Jack, and don’t you forget it,” he said.

I said, “Name’s Spenser with an S, like the poet. I’m in the Boston book.” I stepped through the door and closed it. Then I opened it again and stuck my head back into the hall. “Under Tough,” I said. And closed the door, and walked out.

I love it. We get the clearest, and most unabashed description of Spenser’s code of honor, code of life, and way of approaching things that we’ll ever get. He’s embarrassed to talk about it to Rachel Wallace, he’ll joke around the truth with others, and he and Susan will cover the same ground ad nauseam. But here he’s trying to pass it on to Paul, even if Paul doesn’t embrace it wholeheartedly, Spenser wants to inspire Paul to come up with his own code, his own guiding principles and the best way to do that is by being open an honest.

We learn so much about Spenser here that it’s essential reading for anyone wanting to understand the character.

I was younger than Paul the first few times I read this book, and I won’t say that it inspired me the same way it does Paul. I can’t say I developed the need for, or interest, in being an autonomous person, or in defining my own moral code. But the novel did inspire me, it made me think about life in a way that most people my age didn’t do (probably still don’t).

The dialogue was snappy, I learned early on that it a shrug shouldn’t be used as an all-purpose method of communication, the action was good (if almost an afterthought), and anything that contains a couple of strong Hawk scenes is worth the read.

This isn’t Spenser at his smartest, his toughest, or even his funniest. But it’s Spenser in the raw, the Platonic ideal of Spenser on display for readers and characters alike.

It’s a great read.

Dark Jenny (Audiobook) by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki: Eddie LaCrosse Meets a Legend

By HCNewton

On August 25, 2020

In Alex Bledsoe, Audiobook, Eddie LaCrosse, Fantasy, Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, Reread Project

Dark Jenny

by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki (Narrator)
Series: Eddie LaCrosse, #3

Unabridged Audiobook, 8 hrs., 45 min.
Blackstone Audio, 2012

Read: July 24-28, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

What did I say about Dark Jenny the first time I read it?

I have only the vaguest of memory of what actually happened in the first Eddie LaCrosse novel (The Sword-Edged Blonde), and only somewhat better recall about the second (Burn Me Deadly). That’s a reflection on the amount of stuff I’ve read in that time, and is in no way a reflection on Bledsoe. I do have a very clear recollection about what both books told me about Alex Bledsoe’s talent and that I enjoyed them a lot. I’m equally certain that Dark Jenny won’t suffer from that same fading from memory/excuse to reread them. This one is gonna stay with me for a while.

Essentially, this book is a variation of an Arthurian story—ideal king, queen rumored to be less than ideal, noble knight corps with a few rotten apples thrown in, a wizard figure, wicked half-sister, and a whole lotta intrigue—with a few unique twists of Bledsoe’s own thrown in for good measure. Not a sour note to be found here—some notes that were hard to listen to, sure, but…okay, there’s a metaphor that went awry. I was trying to say that yes, there were things that were less pleasant than others—this book goes to some dark, nasty places–but it all worked well.

We get this Arthurian tale via an extended flashback—in the middle of a nasty winter storm, with nothing else to occupy the attention of his neighbors, Eddie receives an interesting package. One so interesting, there has to be a great tale that goes along with it—which he ends up telling to the crowd at his favorite tavern (with only the tiniest of breaks to remind us that this is all in Eddie’s past). By making this all an extended flashback, Bledsoe is able to give us a slightly different version of Eddie—one on the way to being the guy we’ve seen in the last two books. It also gives him the excuse to have a great femme fatale to grab Eddie’s attention without having to write around his lovely lady.

A great, riveting fantasy noir. Can’t wait for the next one already. A decent jumping on point for those new to the series, and a great third installment for those who’ve been around for awhile.

Thoughts this time through

In the nine years or so since I read Dark Jenny I held on to a vague recollection of the plot, I remembered it was a clever twist on an Authurian Legend, and that it knocked me for a loop. But that’s really all I remembered.

So when I started it on my Eddie LaCrosse re-listen, I was excited. And spent a lot of time pretty disappointed. I couldn’t see why it knocked me for a loop.

It was a very clever way to tell an Authurian story while critiquing the Authorian stories. Bledsoe got the best of both worlds there, he got the utopia, the glory, the all the trappings. And he got to show the inherent problems with them, how short lived the utopia was (and if that’s the case, just how “eu” was the topia?)

And it was a fun story about a younger Eddie LaCrosse, sword jockey at large. I wasn’t blown away, but I was having a good time.

And then I got to the part that I must’ve been thinking about when I wrote my original post about it years ago. It’s not long after we learn why the book is called Dark Jenny, if you’re curious. And then I remembered exactly what I felt in 2011 and why the impression lingered even if the details had faded.

What about Dark Jenny as an audiobook?

Once again, Stefan Rudnicki, isn’t who I’d have guessed was a good fit for LaCrosse. But I’d have been wrong, he’s a great voice for this series and I can’t imagine anyone else doing it now. I can’t put my finger on why, but I think this novel works better in print than in audio (which is not a reflection on Rudnicki, it’s something about the story)—but I have no complaints about this as an audiobook.

So, what did I think about Dark Jenny?

I guess I kind of gave it away earlier. At this point in the series, Bledsoe has locked it in. He knows who Eddie is and how to tell his stories. There’s the right mix of fantasy elements (including the Arthurian material) and hard-boiled PI elements; humor and grit; violence and sympathy.

I don’t know if this is that much better than it’s predecessors—but it is somewhat, at least. And it resonates on an emotional level for me far more than they did. I’m completely sold on it.

4 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Classic Spenser: The Godwulf Manuscript by Robert B. Parker

By HCNewton

On February 24, 2020

In Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, Reread Project, Robert B. Parker, Spenser

Classic Spenser

The Godwulf Manuscript

by Robert B. Parker
Series: Spenser, #1

Mass Market Paperback, 204 pg.
Dell, 1973

Read: January 25-27, 2020

Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

Driving back to Boston, I thought about my two retainers in the same week. Maybe I’d buy a yacht. On the other hand maybe it would be better to get the tear in my convertible roof fixed. The tape leaked.

I came to this series about thirteen (possibly fourteen) years late, but to be fair, I would have been thirteen (possibly fourteen) when I started reading it. I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate Spenser without having spent some time with Leroy Brown, Jupiter Jones/Peter Crenshaw/Bob Andrews, Tabitha-Ruth Wexler and others (as I’ve invoked Brown, I hope I remember to draw a line between Sally Kimball and Spenser’s version when I discuss Promised Land). The Godwulf Manuscript wasn’t the first novel I read in the series, I’m going to guess I’d read three or four others before I found this in a used book store. I did find, I now know, a copy with the original cover (as seen above). A year or two later, I loaned it to a friend who proceeded to lose it. I got over it (probably because I didn’t care about things like early editions then) and despite losing that copy, that friend later became my first college roommate, and I didn’t kill him in his sleep for it. Not even once.

That excursus down memory lane means nothing to you, but I put it there in case that friend reads this post. I hope he remembers the Klingon proverb, bortaS bIr jablu’DI’ reH QaQqu’ nay’.

I’ll hold off on talking more about my background with this series for now, but the fact I’ve been reading, and re-reading, and re-re-reading, and re-re-re-reading these books since 1986 (possibly 1987) probably gives you a pretty good idea what I think of them. I could probably write lengthy posts on the first twenty novels in this series without reading them again—but where would be the fun in that? Of the twelve Spenser novels I’ll be revisiting this year, this one is in my bottom two and I’ve read it at least fifteen times, and I don’t see me stopping reading it anytime until I start sleeping the big sleep.

Yeah, that was a purposeful Raymond Chandler allusion. Why? Because this whole novel is a giant Chandler allusion^*. From naming his main character after a British poet; to Spener’s attitude, demeanor, voice, etc.; to the opening paragraphs; and so, so much more this whole book screams Parker’s debt to and affection for Raymond Chandler. Spenser as a Shadow of Philip Marlowe will ebb and flow over the years, but I don’t think it’s ever more pronounced than it is in these pages.

^* Yeah, there are other influences afoot in these pages, I realize. But Chandler is the primary influence, and this isn’t a dissertation. I don’t have the time to be exhaustive, I have at least 9 other posts I want to complete this week and if I don’t cut a corner or two, I won’t be able to get to them.

So what are these two retainers mentioned above? The first comes from an unnamed university that bears a striking resemblance to Northeastern (Parker’s employer when this was released). An illuminated manuscript has been stolen and is being held for ransom. The problem? (or at least one of them) The University doesn’t have the kind of cash the ‘script-nappers want. They do have a suspect, however, a radical political group on campus: SCACE (Student Committee Against Capitalist Exploitation). Catchy, eh? Spenser starts looking into the group, focusing on a couple of the leaders.

Within a few hours, one of those leaders is dead and another is the prime suspect for the murder. She’d called Spenser for help right after the murder, and he believes her (for compelling reasons you should read for yourself). This leads to the second retainer, her father—a pretty successful capitalist, it should be noted—hires Spenser to clear her for the murder.

The hunt for the manuscript and the murder will end up involving a cult, a couple of very dysfunctional marriages, drug dealing, a couple of hitmen, and a mob boss. Basically, Spenser has his hands full.

While there are many aspects of this novel that Parker will tweak for future installments, there’s a lot that he establishes here that he’ll revisit. Spenser gets fired because of his attitude (as demonstrated by his ignoring—rightly—the University’s insistence that he leave faculty alone), his being fired doesn’t stop him from sticking with the job, however. There’s a shootout in an unpopulated area near Boston^*. Spenser cooks a pretty decent meal for himself (not quite Fritz Brenner’s level, but close enough for a guy cooking for one), and proves himself more literate than anyone looking at him would assume. The climactic fight will be echoed in upcoming books, featuring someone who has no business fighting anyone taking on a hardened criminal of sorts solely on the basis of love and desperation. Parker does get away from this, which is good—if only for the sake of variety—but man, I love it every time he uses this.

^* My knowledge of Massachusetts geography comes wholly from the novels of Parker, William Tapply and Dennis Lehane, so I can’t be more specific than “unpopulated”.

Spenser physically roughs up a couple of college kids and verbally pushes around an older man. Each incident is followed by Spenser berating himself. This is the kind of thing that you don’t see a whole lot in the hardboiled world before Spenser’s debut. Parker will do a more subtle job in the future of showing that while Spenser will resort to violence when necessary, he doesn’t relish it (except when he knows the recipient is guilty of something) and regrets the act. But here, it’s pretty clear that Parker’s trying to show that Spenser isn’t unfeeling about acts of aggression.

There are things that show up here that will disappear—Spenser sleeps with two different women and is fairly casual about it. He’ll later become a paragon of monogamy, but that’s a couple of years away. Still, he’s less of a player next time we see him. He’s also a bit more antagonistic to most of the police that he encounters than he’ll be in books to come. Some of that is a shift in Spenser, some of that is a growth in the relationships he develops with individual members of BPD.

The main thing that sticks around in the future are some of the characters—we meet people here that Spenser still knows and interacts with on a regular basis. Spenser flirts a lot with the secretary for the head of Campus Security, and we’ll see her later. A reporter for the Campus newspaper gives Spenser a lot of help and information about various people/groups on campus, her name is Iris Milford and when Ace Atkins brought her back in 2015, I may have let out an audible whoop. We meet Spenser’s lawyer, Vince Haller, who not only helps Spenser, but the college student being framed. Haller will eventually disappear from the stage (I realize as I write this), but he’s a frequent presence for a long time to come.

But the three big recurring characters are Lt. Martin Quirk, Sgt. Frank Belson and Joe Broz. Spenser and Belson (a homicide detective) have some history and clearly respect (and even like) each other. Belson’s smart, appears lazy (appears), perpetually has a cheap cigar in his mouth (I think that’s a characteristic in this novel, if not, it will be next time we see him). Belson’s superior is Lt. Quirk. Quirk is a very no-nonsense cop, he’s driven, almost humorless, and has no use for private investigators, but sees a little value in Spenser and begins to trust him a bit over the course of this novel. Joe Broz, on the other hand, couldn’t be less a homicide detective if he tried—you could argue Broz (and his employees) are responsible for the continued careers for a handful of homicide detectives. He’s a crime boss of some notoriety and viciousness. At this point (and for some time to come), he’s the most powerful mobster in Boston (although we will soon meet competition). Spenser will be a thorn in Broz’s side for a long, long time.

It occurs to me that I haven’t described Spenser himself. He’s a former professional boxer (not that good, but he did get his nose broken by someone who was very good); a Korean War vet; a former Massachusetts State Trooper, assigned to the DA’s office in a County that fluctuates depending on Parker’s memory; and now a Private Investigator. He’s very literate, he likes to cook (as I mentioned), he drinks a lot, thinks he’s funnier than anyone else does (except the readers of the novels)—which brings him a lot of grief. We don’t get a lot of insight into it in this novel, but honor’s very important to him and it will influence the way he deals with clients, victims, criminals and everyone else along the way. He’s very much a latter-day knight.

I’m not sure that the mystery is all that clever, but the strength of this book is riding along with Spenser as he goes around annoying people until someone does something that he can catch them at (a strategy he’ll spell out in the future, but follows here). I love the voice, I enjoy the character, and watching him go about his business is a pure joy for me.

I haven’t discussed the action/fight scenes yet, and Parker’s approach to them (particularly in the first 15-20 of the series) has always greatly appealed to me. Parker has to address violence, given his chosen genre–and Spenser is a violent man. But in months to come, we see the character address that in such a way to give us insight into why Parker uses it the way he does (I think). So I’ll put a pin in this for now (also, this is long-winded enough at this point that I’ll take any excuse to wrap things up).

I, obviously, highly recommend this book—but I’ll be the first to say that the second is much better and the fourth and fifth in this series are better yet. You don’t have to start with this one for future books to make sense—in fact, you might appreciate Spenser more if you start later on. But for my money, you’re not likely to find many characters as compelling in contemporary (or at least late-Twentieth Century) hardboiled fiction. For introducing the character to the world/the world to the character of Spenser, The Godwulf Manuscript is well-worth the time. Even if it wasn’t the start of something big, it’s still entertaining enough for me to encourage you to read it.

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Reread Project: The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction by Alan Jacobs: A very different model of what reading can be all about.

By HCNewton

On January 16, 2020

In Reread Project

The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction

by Alan Jacobs

Hardcover, 150 pg.
Oxford University Press, 2011

Read: January 2-3, 2020
Grab a copy from your local indie bookstore!

Read would give you delight—at least most of the time—and do so without shame. And even if you are that rare sort of person who is delighted chiefly by what some people call Great Books, don’t make them your study intellectual diet, any more than eat at the most elegant of restaurants every day. It would be too much. Great books are great in part because of what they ask of their readers: they are not readily encountered, easily accessed. The poet W. H. Auden once wrote, “When one thinks of the attention that a great poem demands, there’s something frivolous about the notion of spending every day with one. Masterpieces should be kept for High Holidays of the Spirit”—for our own personal Christmases and Easters, not for any old Wednesday.

I picked this up as my first book of the year as a way to refresh the mind, come into the year with a reminder of what kind of reader I want to be. As I write this, I’m deliberately not looking at what I wrote last time I read this, but you may find it interesting. Maybe not. I don’t know if I’ll end up repeating myself.

I remember this book being as close to a mission statement for my approach to reading as you could hope for—particularly because I came to it late in life. It’s not like this is a book I read in college and it shaped me/my thinking, but it’s something that I came to a couple of years ago and it was as if a more erudite and thoughtful version of myself had written it.

The beginning of the book is the heart of it, he sets forth his central theses, core argument:

one dominant, overarching, nearly definitive principle for reading: Read at Whim.

Reading shouldn’t be about self-improvement (primarily), it isn’t the mental equivalent of eating Brussels Sprouts. It should be for pleasure. And to maximize that, Jacobs will argue—read at whim.

Following that, Jacobs talks about many aspects of reading for pleasure—note-taking, thinking about what we read, focus (and how to expand it), the role of ereaders (he’s surprisingly pro-ereader), fighting distractions, evaluating what we read and more.

I was particularly struck this time through by his section on re-reading. For growing in appreciation for, or understanding of a work. Or because you enjoy escaping into a well-known and beloved world for a period.

Jacobs frequently quotes Auden, at one point he cites Auden’s five ratings for a book—I think we should maybe replace the standard 5-Star system with this:

For an adult reader, the possible verdicts are five: I can see this is good and I like it; I can see this is good but I don’t like it; I can see this is good, and, though at present I don’t like it, I believe with perseverance I should come to like it; I can see that this is trash but I like it; I can see that this is trash and I don’t like it.

Most of all, this is a celebration of/appreciation of reading. Jacobs is a kindred spirit to us readers as well as a humanities professor. Reading is both a passion and a profession—and both (particularly the former) are clearly seen in these pages.

Our goal as adults is not to love all books alike, or as few as possible, but rather to love as widely and as well as our limited selves will allow.

Hear, hear. That’s a good reminder.

5 Stars

This post contains an affiliate link. If you purchase from it, I will get a small commission at no additional cost to you. As always, opinions are my own.

Beat the Reaper (Audiobook) by Josh Bazell, Robert Petkoff

By HCNewton

On August 25, 2017

In Audiobook, Fiction, Mystery/Detective Fiction/Crime Fiction/Thriller, Reread Project

Beat the Reaper

by Josh Bazell, Robert Petkoff (Narrator)
Series: Dr. Peter Brown, #1

Unabridged Audiobook, 6 hrs and 48 mins
Hachette Audio, 2009

Read: April 19 – 21, 2017

Dr. Peter Brown is having a rough day — he’s fighting to keep a patient alive long enough for someone competent to diagnose him properly — he’s also fighting to get someone to diagnose him properly. And he’s a got a new patient that recognizes him from his past life, who makes a threat — keep him alive, or someone will divulge that Brown’s got a new name and can be found at this hospital.

Peter Brown is the new name for someone in the Witness Protection Program — he was a contract killer who flipped on his employers and got sent to medical school. He’d been doing a pretty good job of moving on, but . . .

The novel tells Brown’s story in flashbacks through his childhood, becoming a criminal and what forced the break from that, um, atypical career path. Then we get to see him scrambling to stay alive in the present, and maybe keep some of his patients in the same state.

A first-person narrator describing how he’s killing someone with medical precision, and a touch of humor is just so much fun. This is a very visceral book — whether describing what a patient is suffering, what Peter is inflicting on someone, what someone’s inflicting on Peter, or even the drugs he takes to maintain alertness — he describes in the kind of detail you just don’t see anywhere else. You can feel it.

Peter’s got a great sense of humor — dark, sure, but what else can he have in is position? But if you don’t find yourself at least grinning a a few times, there’s something wrong with you.

Robert Petkoff narrates this in a hyper-masculine tone of voice, which fits perfectly. He embodies Peter in a way that you hope an audiobook narrator can. I liked the audiobook by him I heard last year, but this one seems like he got into the story more, like he was having fun (of course, this is a much more “fun” book than Before the Fall wants to be). Basically, he does a great job.

Part of me wants to go into more detail — but I find myself being restrained. Beat the Reaper is visceral, witty, intelligent and violent — this has all the elements of a thriller that’ll appeal to me. The plot and characters are pretty decent, too — that’s more than you can ask, really.

—–

4 Stars

The High King (Audiobook) by Lloyd Alexander, James Langton

By HCNewton

On April 24, 2017

In Audiobook, Chronicles of Prydain, Fiction, Reread Project, YA/MG/Children's Books

The High King

by Lloyd Alexander, James Langton (Narrator)
Series: Chronicles of Prydain, #5
Unabridged Audiobook, 7 hrs, 24 min.
Listening Library, 2005

Read: March 29 – 30, 2017

Arawn-Death-Lord has managed to get his hands on Dyrnwyn, Gwydion’s sword, which has emboldened him to move his forces to launch an all-out assault on the Kingdom of Prydain. Gwydion and his allies move quickly to assemble the forces necessary to stand against him — basically, it’s an Armageddon-type situation, and all hands are needed.

Taran is sent to the Free Commots, where he spent so much time recently to gather their support — and he does so, almost without trying to, becomes the leader of the assembled forces (such as they are) of the rather libertarian people. Before you know it, Taran’s leading his band into battle at the side of Gwydion and the other warleaders. It’s a stretch to believe, but at this point, you go with it. The forces marshaled against the High King are strong enough to make this an uphill battle, but when treason rears its ugly head and the forces of Prydain are divided against themselves, it really seems that all hope is lost. Eventually, Gwydion and his forces head off on a last-ditch effort to stop the Death Lord, while Taran, his companions, allies, followers and Glew take on a vital, but smaller task that will allow Gwydion’s hail Mary to work.

And frankly, that whole treason storyline bugs me — not just because it’s evil, but because it’s futile, stupid, and pointless. I think this was Alexander’s biggest error in the series. It serves no real purpose but to stack the odds against the armies of Prydain.

Finally, we get final battles — The Death Lord and his forces are defeated (spoiler, children’s fantasy written in the 60’s features good guys winning); the future of Prydain is settled; other Tolkien-esque things take place as is fitting in the conclusion to a fantasy series (actually, Tolkien was probably following the same older rules and tropes as Alexander, but we now associate them with Tolkien, not his predecessors).

Taran finally grows up into what Alexander’s been holdig out for him all along — it takes the whole novel, but it happens. Gwydion is probably the least interesting he’s ever been here, which is a shame. Eilonwy? Oh, Eilonwy — she’s just so perfect (as a character, probably annoying in real life — still, someone you want in your corner). I loved everything about her in this book. I wish Gurgi had a little more to do, and that Glew had far, far less. Fflewddur Fflam remains the unsung hero of this series — the sacrifices he makes, the efforts he makes, his wisdom, etc., are all overshadowed by his comedic use. What he goes through moved me more this time through than any of the deaths. As an aside, the first time I saw a picture of Lloyd Alexander, I shouted — Fflewddur! I don’t know if it was intentional, or if I just had a strange imagination, but he looks exactly like a Fflam.

Oh, and there are many, many deaths — mostly nameless soldiers on both sides, but there are quite a few named people, too. Some get great heroic moments, others are just named in a list of the fallen. I remember the first time I read this book being very upset by just one of them — it was quite possibly the first time in my young life that anyone other than a dog, an ailing elderly person or a villain had died in a book I read. I still get sad when I read that particular one, but it doesn’t get to me as much.

James Langton’s performance here is consistent with what he’s done for the last few books. If you liked him before, you’ll like him now. If not . . .

I remember liking this more than I did, even just a few years ago when I read this with my kids. Still, a great way to wrap up this series — Alexander ties up everything that needs tiring up, he rewards all the surviving characters in a fitting way and sends our heroes off on new adventures. There’s still a bit of fun, a little adventure, and character growth throughout, with all things ending up just where they need to satisfy readers. It’s really easy for adult-me to see where kid-me fell in love with the genre thanks to this series. Still, a fitting conclusion to this series — which I still recommend for young and old (primarily the young).

—–

4 Stars

Taran Wanderer (Audiobook) by Lloyd Alexander, James Langton

By HCNewton

On April 13, 2017

In Audiobook, Chronicles of Prydain, Fiction, Reread Project, YA/MG/Children's Books

Taran Wanderer

by Lloyd Alexander, James Langton (Narrator)
Series: Chronicles of Prydain, #4
Unabridged Audiobook, 6 hrs, 22 min.
Listening Library, 2005

Read: March 28, 2017

The one question that’s plagued Taran all his life is just who is he? Who is his family? Is there any chance at all that his family is some sort of nobility? This last question has taken on a new level of importance to him as he has realized that he’s in love with a princess and can’t do anything about it without that nobility.

Dallben can’t answer the question for him — but he allows Taran leave to go try to find the answer himself. I’ve never understood just how Taran can pull this off — there’s practically no birth records in Prydain (I can’t imagine), it’s not like he can get blood tests done — and he doesn’t really interview anyone, just meanders around.

Still, he visits various corners of the kingdom — visiting friends old and new, dipping his toe in all sorts of trades and vocations. He renders aid, and gets aid. Fflewddur Fflam shows up and spends a good portion of the novel traveling with him (Gurgi remains a constant companion). There’s a confrontation with a wizard, a regional armed conflict to try to settle, a mercenary band to deal with — as well as other woes.

He learns a lot, he matures a lot, and maybe even gets a dose of wisdom. It’s not your traditional fantasy novel by any sense, but it’s a good one.

As for the audiobook? Everything I’ve said about the other books in the series — Alexander’s introduction and Langton’s performance — holds true for this one.

The most emotionally rich of the books, the most thoughtful — particularly for those of the target age. Good, good stuff.

—–

4 Stars