We All Fall Down by Michael Harvey
Of the four novels Michael Harvey has written about Michael Kelly, PI, We All Fall Down was the least enjoyable. It’s still fairly enjoyable, though. It’s just not very good. But that’s OK; “good” isn’t really what you’re looking for when you read a Michael Kelly story. These novels are about the gritty, tough Chicago of stereotypes: tough cops, criminal cops, corrupt politicians, drugs, guns, and sex.
We All Fall Down picks up an open piece of the plot of the previous book, The Third Rail. The seeds were there for a very interesting story of madmen and bioterrorism. Instead, we got a far-fetched tale of science fiction that was neither suspenseful nor intriguing. That was neither what I wanted nor what we had been conditioned to expect from Harvey.
Again, it’s not bad, but it’s not at all what I wanted. I’ll continue to read the series, but I was highly disappointed in this installment.
C-
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Lobster Tales
Last Night at the Lobster by Stewart O'Nan
I always get nervous when a White author, especially an American White author, writes a story about people of color. As we were introduced to the characters one by one, I realized that all of them are either Black, Latino, or undescribed. I found the undescribeds annoying. It read to me as if we had to be told the when the characters weren’t White, as if only non-Whiteness needs to be described or remarked upon. Maybe it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing to me. I don’t think it was intentional. But it is something that I noticed. It was very offputting.
I know what O’Nan was trying to achieve with this book. He actually does a fairly good job of showing working class people showing pride and dignity in their jobs. The restaurant is closing for good at the end of the day, there are only five days until Christmas, and a monster snowstorm has already started. Yet, these people are at work and are working hard. But…you can tell that, save a bus of Chinese passengers just stopping for a minute, all of the customers are White. So what Last Night at the Lobster tells is the story of a crew of Black and Latinos serving White people for a full day. And OK. That doesn’t have to be bad. The story could be good. But it isn’t. Not at all.
The entire day is told from Manny’s point of view. Manny is the manager. He is our hero. I say “hero” because O’Nan spends many pages putting us inside of Manny’s head as he is constantly trying to do the best for his customers, his employees, and his restaurant. Because, as O’Nan tells us, Manny thinks of the restaurant as his. And even though the restaurant is already doomed to close its doors forever, he wants the last day to leave a good impression on the bosses before he begins working two days later at a different restaurant as assistant manager. Yeah, color-wise, this story does not work for me at all. Oh, about Manny the hero? The first thing he does after we meet him is toke up in his car before beginning his heroic shift. And throughout the day, he spends time thinking about his table-touches, trying to please customers enough to get them to shake his hand, and in general is just aiming to please.
None of the characters are really likeable. As a reader, I felt no emotion for any of them, no compulsion to root for any of them. And, really, the only conflict wasn’t really a conflict. It’s just Manny being Manny (Stewart O’Nan is a Red Sox fan), which means he’s nervous and paranoid about issues that amount to nothing and spends all of his time trying to make a good impression.
Last Night at the Lobster isn’t bad. It’s just very, very boring. And the server-clientele racial dynamic isn’t a pleasant one. Overall…it’s just kind of there.
Oh...does the author only know one Spanish word, abuelita? Its repeated use was so out of place.
D+
I always get nervous when a White author, especially an American White author, writes a story about people of color. As we were introduced to the characters one by one, I realized that all of them are either Black, Latino, or undescribed. I found the undescribeds annoying. It read to me as if we had to be told the when the characters weren’t White, as if only non-Whiteness needs to be described or remarked upon. Maybe it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing to me. I don’t think it was intentional. But it is something that I noticed. It was very offputting.
I know what O’Nan was trying to achieve with this book. He actually does a fairly good job of showing working class people showing pride and dignity in their jobs. The restaurant is closing for good at the end of the day, there are only five days until Christmas, and a monster snowstorm has already started. Yet, these people are at work and are working hard. But…you can tell that, save a bus of Chinese passengers just stopping for a minute, all of the customers are White. So what Last Night at the Lobster tells is the story of a crew of Black and Latinos serving White people for a full day. And OK. That doesn’t have to be bad. The story could be good. But it isn’t. Not at all.
The entire day is told from Manny’s point of view. Manny is the manager. He is our hero. I say “hero” because O’Nan spends many pages putting us inside of Manny’s head as he is constantly trying to do the best for his customers, his employees, and his restaurant. Because, as O’Nan tells us, Manny thinks of the restaurant as his. And even though the restaurant is already doomed to close its doors forever, he wants the last day to leave a good impression on the bosses before he begins working two days later at a different restaurant as assistant manager. Yeah, color-wise, this story does not work for me at all. Oh, about Manny the hero? The first thing he does after we meet him is toke up in his car before beginning his heroic shift. And throughout the day, he spends time thinking about his table-touches, trying to please customers enough to get them to shake his hand, and in general is just aiming to please.
None of the characters are really likeable. As a reader, I felt no emotion for any of them, no compulsion to root for any of them. And, really, the only conflict wasn’t really a conflict. It’s just Manny being Manny (Stewart O’Nan is a Red Sox fan), which means he’s nervous and paranoid about issues that amount to nothing and spends all of his time trying to make a good impression.
Last Night at the Lobster isn’t bad. It’s just very, very boring. And the server-clientele racial dynamic isn’t a pleasant one. Overall…it’s just kind of there.
Oh...does the author only know one Spanish word, abuelita? Its repeated use was so out of place.
D+
Monday, October 24, 2011
Divided Soul
Divided Soul: The Life of Marvin Gaye by David Ritz
This book was good, as good as possible, but not as good as it could have been. I believe that’s because the author, David Ritz, was too close to the subject. Knowing that Ritz and Gaye had a rollercoaster relationship that included litigation and disputes over money, there was no way I can take Ritz’s biography at face value. Even though the story of Divided Soul is nonfiction, it is told in the voice of an unreliable narrator.
Don’t get me wrong. I give Ritz a lot of credit for this work. This was heavily researched and there was a lot of in depth interviews with Marvin Gaye’s close friends and family. The interviewees, including Marvin, himself, are quoted heavily. With very rare exception, the quotes work and fit seamlessly into the story.
And that story was fantastic. Tragic, but fantastic. The way Ritz was able to relate Marvin’s lyrics to his life was great. It is difficult to read this book without emoting. And very difficult to read it and not judge the people closest to Gaye—personally, I find it very hard, despite knowing that times and life were much different back then, to not judge Marvin’s mother. If this was a work of fiction, it would be a 5-star work. For much of the book, I felt like I was in Marvin’s head.
But that’s also my biggest problem with the book. I don’t trust Ritz’s version of things. I can’t. Page after page after page of Divided Soul tells tale of Marvin’s manipulations of the people closest to him and the instability of those relationships. Ritz was one of those people, one of those relationships. He and Gaye were on non-speaking terms for nearly half of the time they knew each other. I cannot fully but into his insights into Marvin’s mindset. I don’t have full faith in his portrayals of Marvin’s emotions.
Marvin’s is a story that needs to be told by an outsider, but there’s no way an outsider could know or learn all that Ritz did. In that way, Divided Soul is, I believe, the best we can get. I’m glad I read it.
C+
This book was good, as good as possible, but not as good as it could have been. I believe that’s because the author, David Ritz, was too close to the subject. Knowing that Ritz and Gaye had a rollercoaster relationship that included litigation and disputes over money, there was no way I can take Ritz’s biography at face value. Even though the story of Divided Soul is nonfiction, it is told in the voice of an unreliable narrator.
Don’t get me wrong. I give Ritz a lot of credit for this work. This was heavily researched and there was a lot of in depth interviews with Marvin Gaye’s close friends and family. The interviewees, including Marvin, himself, are quoted heavily. With very rare exception, the quotes work and fit seamlessly into the story.
And that story was fantastic. Tragic, but fantastic. The way Ritz was able to relate Marvin’s lyrics to his life was great. It is difficult to read this book without emoting. And very difficult to read it and not judge the people closest to Gaye—personally, I find it very hard, despite knowing that times and life were much different back then, to not judge Marvin’s mother. If this was a work of fiction, it would be a 5-star work. For much of the book, I felt like I was in Marvin’s head.
But that’s also my biggest problem with the book. I don’t trust Ritz’s version of things. I can’t. Page after page after page of Divided Soul tells tale of Marvin’s manipulations of the people closest to him and the instability of those relationships. Ritz was one of those people, one of those relationships. He and Gaye were on non-speaking terms for nearly half of the time they knew each other. I cannot fully but into his insights into Marvin’s mindset. I don’t have full faith in his portrayals of Marvin’s emotions.
Marvin’s is a story that needs to be told by an outsider, but there’s no way an outsider could know or learn all that Ritz did. In that way, Divided Soul is, I believe, the best we can get. I’m glad I read it.
C+
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Married with Zombies
Married with Zombies by Jesse Petersen
I was looking for something light and fun with some action, and Married with Zombies delivered. It was also very annoying. In just about every scene, the protagonists made classic zombie invasion mistakes, and it seems like they never learned from them. Also, at some point the emotion of killing undead people has to fade away. There was no progression throughout the novel. I’ll read the next one, and I’m sure it’ll be fun. I just won’t expect it to be very good. Hopefully I’m pleasantly surprised.
I do have to add that there was a one part that really irritated me:
C
I was looking for something light and fun with some action, and Married with Zombies delivered. It was also very annoying. In just about every scene, the protagonists made classic zombie invasion mistakes, and it seems like they never learned from them. Also, at some point the emotion of killing undead people has to fade away. There was no progression throughout the novel. I’ll read the next one, and I’m sure it’ll be fun. I just won’t expect it to be very good. Hopefully I’m pleasantly surprised.
I do have to add that there was a one part that really irritated me:
“Now call out.”That has nothing to do with feminism. In fact, I feel like that passage cheapens the whole meaning of the concept. That moment really took me out of the story.
I tilted my head in confusion. “Call out?”
He nodded with utter certainty. “If someone’s hiding in here, they might be less afraid if a woman calls for them than a man.”
I rolled my eyes but sisnce I didn’t want to argue the concept of feminism with my husband at that particular moment, I cleared my throat.”
C
Sunday, October 16, 2011
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Stieg Larsson
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest picks up about two hours after the end of The Girl Who Played with Fire, which means that there was no long wind up—and if you’ve read the first two novels of the trilogy, you know exactly what I mean—to read before the actual story began. We begin right in the middle of the action. Much more so than the first two novels, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest is an action novel, even when we enter the courtroom.
To me, the very best thing about the plot was that Stieg Larsson constructed everything so that a semi-intelligent reader can see how rape culture and the denigration of women is structurally ingrained into society. From Lisbeth Salander’s story to Erika Berger’s story to Monica Figuerola’s, we are shown a very realistic portrayal of how women are treated and how that treatment shapes everything in a woman’s life, including those things that she cannot control. It is a story that can easily be told about poor and non-White persons here in America. Very good lessons…but I’m sure most will miss them.
I also liked many of the characters who exist only in this installment of the trilogy. Evert Gullberg, Monica Figuerola, and Frederik Clinton were all very compelling. And even though we met him briefly in The Girl Who Played with Fire, we don’t really get to know Dr. Teleborian until this book. The courtroom scene with him on the stand is one of the best courtroom scenes I have ever read. For different reasons, Gullberg and Teleborian are two of the most chilling and creepy characters you will ever encounter.
Still, this is Lisbeth Salander’s story. Nothing Larsson did changed that. He was never going to take the story away from her. Ultimately, the entire Millennium trilogy is Lisbeth’s. It is her rising from unspeakable horror and finding both herself and her place in the world. One of the things that disappointed me about The Girl Who Played with Fire is that the Lisbeth in that book was not the same Lisbeth from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. After reading The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, however, I realize that it could not be the same Lisbeth. Too much has happened to her. She is a survivor, and survival means adapting. She had to change because her world changed. To keep her the same would have been disingenuous. I loved her story, and I love her. What a fascinating character.
By no means was this novel perfect, though. I was tired of the so-called Blomqvist charm by the middle of the previous installment. It was way over the top this time. Also, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest was a borderline A novel until the epilogue. The epilogue takes up a full 5% of a 590+ page novel. And all but one sentence of it was unnecessary. Those things that the epilogue did wrap up were, in my opinion, inconsequential. I thought they had already been solved implicitly.
But it was great. I loved it, and I highly recommend the entire series.
B+
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest picks up about two hours after the end of The Girl Who Played with Fire, which means that there was no long wind up—and if you’ve read the first two novels of the trilogy, you know exactly what I mean—to read before the actual story began. We begin right in the middle of the action. Much more so than the first two novels, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest is an action novel, even when we enter the courtroom.
To me, the very best thing about the plot was that Stieg Larsson constructed everything so that a semi-intelligent reader can see how rape culture and the denigration of women is structurally ingrained into society. From Lisbeth Salander’s story to Erika Berger’s story to Monica Figuerola’s, we are shown a very realistic portrayal of how women are treated and how that treatment shapes everything in a woman’s life, including those things that she cannot control. It is a story that can easily be told about poor and non-White persons here in America. Very good lessons…but I’m sure most will miss them.
I also liked many of the characters who exist only in this installment of the trilogy. Evert Gullberg, Monica Figuerola, and Frederik Clinton were all very compelling. And even though we met him briefly in The Girl Who Played with Fire, we don’t really get to know Dr. Teleborian until this book. The courtroom scene with him on the stand is one of the best courtroom scenes I have ever read. For different reasons, Gullberg and Teleborian are two of the most chilling and creepy characters you will ever encounter.
Still, this is Lisbeth Salander’s story. Nothing Larsson did changed that. He was never going to take the story away from her. Ultimately, the entire Millennium trilogy is Lisbeth’s. It is her rising from unspeakable horror and finding both herself and her place in the world. One of the things that disappointed me about The Girl Who Played with Fire is that the Lisbeth in that book was not the same Lisbeth from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. After reading The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, however, I realize that it could not be the same Lisbeth. Too much has happened to her. She is a survivor, and survival means adapting. She had to change because her world changed. To keep her the same would have been disingenuous. I loved her story, and I love her. What a fascinating character.
By no means was this novel perfect, though. I was tired of the so-called Blomqvist charm by the middle of the previous installment. It was way over the top this time. Also, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest was a borderline A novel until the epilogue. The epilogue takes up a full 5% of a 590+ page novel. And all but one sentence of it was unnecessary. Those things that the epilogue did wrap up were, in my opinion, inconsequential. I thought they had already been solved implicitly.
But it was great. I loved it, and I highly recommend the entire series.
B+
Saturday, October 8, 2011
The Girl Who Played with Fire
The Girl Who Played with Fire by Stieg Larsson
What a disappointment. My first impression of The Girl Who Played with Fire during the first few chapters was that Stieg Larsson fell in love with Lisbeth Salander while writing The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. As I got deeper into the book, I realized that the problem was more than that.
Structurally, this book was overwhelmingly heavy on exposition. After every important piece of dialogue, I knew I would read three to five paragraphs summarizing everything that I had just read. It was like being in elementary school again, where kids read a story and then read an essay explaining all of the concepts and themes from the text. The Girl Who Played with Fire is an adult book; that was unnecessary.
I’ve thought about it, and I’m fairly certain that I’ve not read a more preachy piece of fiction as an adult. Yes, the author wanted to rail against many of society’s ills, but he did so in a very overt and ineffectual way. And much of the preachiness occurs in passages that have absolutely nothing to do with anything else in the book. One example is a two-page long history of one character’s relationship with her husband. The only point of this history is to express Larsson’s view that polyamorous marriages are OK if both partners agree. There is so much that Larsson wanted to say in this book, and he made sure to get it all in. But he didn’t make sure that it all actually fit into the story. He put it all in. The novel reads like a very long newspaper article. Actually, it’s closer to a column; it is very much slanted one way. Again, that’s not bad. Just poor, poor execution.
To me, the biggest difference between this and the first novel of the trilogy is the narration from Lisbeth’s point of view. In the first novel, we read her thoughts. This time, it is almost exclusively her feelings. Huge difference, and it makes her a very different and much less compelling character. One of the intriguing things about The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is the mystery of Lisbeth. Even though we don’t know everything about her in The Girl Who Played with Fire, we are very much in tune with her motivations and emotions. That eliminates much of the mystery and intrigue. It makes both her, and solving the mystery that drives the plot, much less interesting than they should be.
The characters are all over-the-top caricatures. The bad guys are bad. Always bad. In every waking moment of their lives bad. It’s so ridiculous. And the character traits that these people have. My goodness!
Whereas most of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo felt real, nothing in The Girl Who Played with Fire did. Nothing. Everything was contrived and force-fed. It is difficult for me to decide which are the most ridiculous. It could be any of Lisbeth’s action scenes. Or any of the blond giant’s scenes. In the end, I think Lisbeth herself is the most ridiculous thing about the novel. As I said to my wife, the Lisbeth that we encounter in The Girl Who Played with Fire is a cross between Ang of Avatar: The Last Airbender and Leeloo from The Fifth Element. During the final stages of the book, she became even more absurd.
That is the word that best describes the novel. The Girl Who Played with Fire was absurd.
C+
What a disappointment. My first impression of The Girl Who Played with Fire during the first few chapters was that Stieg Larsson fell in love with Lisbeth Salander while writing The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. As I got deeper into the book, I realized that the problem was more than that.
Structurally, this book was overwhelmingly heavy on exposition. After every important piece of dialogue, I knew I would read three to five paragraphs summarizing everything that I had just read. It was like being in elementary school again, where kids read a story and then read an essay explaining all of the concepts and themes from the text. The Girl Who Played with Fire is an adult book; that was unnecessary.
I’ve thought about it, and I’m fairly certain that I’ve not read a more preachy piece of fiction as an adult. Yes, the author wanted to rail against many of society’s ills, but he did so in a very overt and ineffectual way. And much of the preachiness occurs in passages that have absolutely nothing to do with anything else in the book. One example is a two-page long history of one character’s relationship with her husband. The only point of this history is to express Larsson’s view that polyamorous marriages are OK if both partners agree. There is so much that Larsson wanted to say in this book, and he made sure to get it all in. But he didn’t make sure that it all actually fit into the story. He put it all in. The novel reads like a very long newspaper article. Actually, it’s closer to a column; it is very much slanted one way. Again, that’s not bad. Just poor, poor execution.
To me, the biggest difference between this and the first novel of the trilogy is the narration from Lisbeth’s point of view. In the first novel, we read her thoughts. This time, it is almost exclusively her feelings. Huge difference, and it makes her a very different and much less compelling character. One of the intriguing things about The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is the mystery of Lisbeth. Even though we don’t know everything about her in The Girl Who Played with Fire, we are very much in tune with her motivations and emotions. That eliminates much of the mystery and intrigue. It makes both her, and solving the mystery that drives the plot, much less interesting than they should be.
The characters are all over-the-top caricatures. The bad guys are bad. Always bad. In every waking moment of their lives bad. It’s so ridiculous. And the character traits that these people have. My goodness!
Whereas most of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo felt real, nothing in The Girl Who Played with Fire did. Nothing. Everything was contrived and force-fed. It is difficult for me to decide which are the most ridiculous. It could be any of Lisbeth’s action scenes. Or any of the blond giant’s scenes. In the end, I think Lisbeth herself is the most ridiculous thing about the novel. As I said to my wife, the Lisbeth that we encounter in The Girl Who Played with Fire is a cross between Ang of Avatar: The Last Airbender and Leeloo from The Fifth Element. During the final stages of the book, she became even more absurd.
That is the word that best describes the novel. The Girl Who Played with Fire was absurd.
C+
Sunday, October 2, 2011
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
Unless an author is going to just pull a reveal out of his/her butt and not give the reader a legitimate chance to figure it out, there is a finite number of possible answers to any mystery. The quality of the story lies not in whether or not the reader can figure it out, but rather in the skill and execution of crafting the tale. This is where The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo succeeds.
Before I had begun reading, I had been warned that the book starts slowly and then really picks up. I did not, however, find the beginning slow. I was engrossed from the start. Part of what I found brilliant was that there was no GIANT MOMENT OF EXCITEMENT to grab the reader. Instead, everything flowed naturally. In addition, the subplots were fit into the major story arc perfectly.
The only gripe I had—and it’s not necessarily a small one—lies in Lisbeth Salander’s dialogue. The fault probably lies at the hands of the translator, but I just don’t believe that character would speak in the manner she does. It was a little off-putting, and for brief moments took me out of the story.
One thing that really helped to draw me in was Stieg Larsson’s scene setting. I felt the shifts in temperature: the chills in the air, the sweltering heat. And I have a vivid picture of all of the characters from Ricky Berger to Isabella Vanger and everyone in between. And I swear to you that I can close my eyes right now and draw a map of Hedeby island, complete with locales—although I couldn’t possibly pronounce the name of most of the important places.
The most important thing I can say is that I was in the story, and it did not take me long to get there. Because it is so engrossing, the political messages feel neither forced nor overwhelming. Everything is...natural.
I loved it. Can’t wait to start the next one. I’m sure I’ll have a lot more to say once I complete the trilogy.
A
Unless an author is going to just pull a reveal out of his/her butt and not give the reader a legitimate chance to figure it out, there is a finite number of possible answers to any mystery. The quality of the story lies not in whether or not the reader can figure it out, but rather in the skill and execution of crafting the tale. This is where The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo succeeds.
Before I had begun reading, I had been warned that the book starts slowly and then really picks up. I did not, however, find the beginning slow. I was engrossed from the start. Part of what I found brilliant was that there was no GIANT MOMENT OF EXCITEMENT to grab the reader. Instead, everything flowed naturally. In addition, the subplots were fit into the major story arc perfectly.
The only gripe I had—and it’s not necessarily a small one—lies in Lisbeth Salander’s dialogue. The fault probably lies at the hands of the translator, but I just don’t believe that character would speak in the manner she does. It was a little off-putting, and for brief moments took me out of the story.
One thing that really helped to draw me in was Stieg Larsson’s scene setting. I felt the shifts in temperature: the chills in the air, the sweltering heat. And I have a vivid picture of all of the characters from Ricky Berger to Isabella Vanger and everyone in between. And I swear to you that I can close my eyes right now and draw a map of Hedeby island, complete with locales—although I couldn’t possibly pronounce the name of most of the important places.
The most important thing I can say is that I was in the story, and it did not take me long to get there. Because it is so engrossing, the political messages feel neither forced nor overwhelming. Everything is...natural.
I loved it. Can’t wait to start the next one. I’m sure I’ll have a lot more to say once I complete the trilogy.
A
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