Deadline by Mira Grant
The penultimate book of any series, especially a trilogy, is often full of exposition and setup. Their primary focus tends to be just setting up the series finale. Deadline succeeds at doing this in an entertaining and gripping way. While not nearly as good as its predecessor—and really, nothing Mira Grant could have written as a sequel would have matched Feed—it was a very, very good book. I liked it a lot.
I didn’t love it, though. That’s due in large part to Grant’s use of Shaun as the narrator this time around. I don’t think she fully captured Shaun as a narrator. Some things—his knowledge of certain things like broomstick skirts (what are those?) being one—seem out of character for him; others, like his narration of a love scene, come across as way to female.
Another issue I had is that I felt this would have been better as two novels instead of one. There was a little too much going on, and that led to some very important moments getting obscured or overshadowed. In my opinion, Deadline’s big reveal happened too early in the book. By the end, it seems underplayed. But it’s a really big deal. Perhaps it is a matter of pacing, which seemed off. In the middle 20% of the novel, there were too many long passages of exposition in some spots and disjointed periods of action in others. The beginning and end were fantastic, though. Seems like the author took a little while to find her groove. That often happens when an author is trying to get too much to happen in one book.
Still, the story was great. Where Feed was ultimately about love and courage, Deadline is about heartbreak and introspection. The story begins nearly a year after the end of Feed, and are introduced to the characters while still reeling from the tragedy of that first novel. The biggest single thing in many of their lives is coping. As the plot progresses, we see them deal with other losses, from life to love to peace of mind. At its heart, Deadline is a story of living through loss. Obviously, it starts with Shaun, but it doesn’t end with him.
This represents Grant’s biggest victory in Deadline. Where many stories fail—this list includes The Hunger Games trilogy to just about every Denzel Washington movie made in the 2000s—is that the plots are written such that many of the characters exist for the sole purpose of assisting the protagonist in completing his/her path. The characters in Deadline have their own journeys, and those journeys are central to the plot. It is not all about Shaun, and Grant uses one of her characters, Alaric, to remind us (and Shaun) of that fact. Shaun’s progression is central to the story, but so are Rebecca’s and Madalene’s and Kelly’s and Mahir’s and Alaric’s. All of these people matter, all of their choices matter, not just to Shaun or to Shaun’s arc, but to the big picture. These characters, including Shaun, are links of the chain, pieces of the puzzle, and they all must work both separately and together. That is the brilliance of the world Mira Grant created in this Newsflesh series.
Not coincidentally, this also describes the virus that has caused all the trouble in this world. I’m not a virologist, but the thought behind the science and development of the Kellis-Amberlee virus continues to impress me. The more we readers learn about the virus, its behavior, and the defenses against it, the more engrossed I become in the story. The three major twists in Deadline (I’m angry with myself for not seeing the third one coming) are all related to the science of and around Kellis-Amberlee. While all fiction is manufactured, none of this feels pasted.
Also, I loved the use of George as character in this novel. I thought Grant handled her perfectly, and her interactions with Shaun felt natural and in line with what we read in Feed. It was not an easy thing to pull off, but Grant did. George’s presence added to the story and added to the depth of Shaun, Rebecca, and Mahir. It also, in a way, made Feed a little more profound for me, and I’d already rated it an A.
Deadline was a terrific read. I absolutely love this series.
B+
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Feed
Feed by Mira Grant
This is the smartest zombie story I’ve ever read or watched. Outside of the zombies, this story was full of intelligent commentary on society, politics, and good old human nature. Feed is the tale of a crew of Bay Area-based bloggers who are tasked to follow Senator Peter Ryman of Wisconsin during his Presidential campaign during the 2040 Republican primaries. Mira Grant uses first-person narrative from Georgia Mason’s point of view. Not only is George a great narrator, she is also a great character. She is, frankly, everything I hoped Katniss Everdeen would be.
It’s not just about George, though. Grant’s world building was fantastic. The detail she put into various laws, societal norms, and technological advancement was superb. The origin story of the zombie virus was highly intelligent. One thing that sticks out to me as brilliant is the way George’s retinal disability was handled. It was a very subtle way of showing the everyday inconveniences America’s disabled have to face.
Overall, what this book was about is the realities of life. Just a great, great story. Very well put together. And oh, man, does this book make you emote. I highly recommend this.
My one nitpick is that the end went on a little too long, but that wasn’t bad enough to spoil the greatness that is Feed.
SPOILER BELOW:
Georgia’s is the most difficult character death I’ve ever dealt with. That was the absolute worst. Worse than Wallace and Bodie of The Wire, worse than Cochise from Cooley High, worse than Thomas J. from My Girl, worse than any character death I can think of from any book I’ve read or any TV show or movie I’ve ever watched. That hurt, man. I still can’t believe that George died. Oh, man.
A
This is the smartest zombie story I’ve ever read or watched. Outside of the zombies, this story was full of intelligent commentary on society, politics, and good old human nature. Feed is the tale of a crew of Bay Area-based bloggers who are tasked to follow Senator Peter Ryman of Wisconsin during his Presidential campaign during the 2040 Republican primaries. Mira Grant uses first-person narrative from Georgia Mason’s point of view. Not only is George a great narrator, she is also a great character. She is, frankly, everything I hoped Katniss Everdeen would be.
It’s not just about George, though. Grant’s world building was fantastic. The detail she put into various laws, societal norms, and technological advancement was superb. The origin story of the zombie virus was highly intelligent. One thing that sticks out to me as brilliant is the way George’s retinal disability was handled. It was a very subtle way of showing the everyday inconveniences America’s disabled have to face.
Overall, what this book was about is the realities of life. Just a great, great story. Very well put together. And oh, man, does this book make you emote. I highly recommend this.
My one nitpick is that the end went on a little too long, but that wasn’t bad enough to spoil the greatness that is Feed.
SPOILER BELOW:
Georgia’s is the most difficult character death I’ve ever dealt with. That was the absolute worst. Worse than Wallace and Bodie of The Wire, worse than Cochise from Cooley High, worse than Thomas J. from My Girl, worse than any character death I can think of from any book I’ve read or any TV show or movie I’ve ever watched. That hurt, man. I still can’t believe that George died. Oh, man.
A
Mockingjay
Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
Two names repeatedly rang through my head as I read Mockingjay: Michele Bachmann and Sarah Palin. Throughout this novel, Katniss Everdeen, who had previously been a woman of goals, aspirations, and independence, became a woman who personified the ideals professed by the two politicians. It was ridiculous. It was boring. It was very, very bad.
How bad was Mockingjay? Bad enough that from the moment I finished reading it on May 2, 2011, I did not pick up another book until September 24. Bad enough to earn a place on my personal Mt. Rushmore of bad books. What an awful book, and what an awful way to end the trilogy.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think The Hunger Games and Catching Fire were great books (I gave Catching Fire 2 stars out of 5). But there was enough in those two novels to see Katniss’ potential. I really, really liked her. In Mockingjay, the protagonist is not true to character. What we learned throughout The Hunger Games and Catching Fire is that Katniss is not a fearless warrior, but she does not allow her fear to stop her. She is a good heroine. One of the things that sticks out to me from The Hunger Games and Catching Fire is that Katniss does what she wants to do in both a small picture and big picture sense. Throughout the series, her goal is to protect her mother and sister; during the first novel, she takes on Peeta’s cause as well. During the second book, she decides that she’s not going to let the Capitol win. Even though she’s neither the smartest nor strongest, Katniss is focused on her goals and does whatever it takes to achieve them.
In Mockingjay, Katniss became someone who doesn’t follow through on anything. She does not fulfill a single purpose she had declared for herself. She does not follow through on a single thing she planned to do. Instead, she spends much of the novel in various drug-induced stupors and hiding out in medical wards or closets. As a result, the narrative structure of the novel falls apart. Katniss is not present for the vast majority of the action and important events; therefore, we readers receive a great deal of necessary information via long expositions that begin with phrases such as “This is what happened:” It makes Mockingjay a very disjointed, unentertaining read.
Two things that don’t may any sense whatsoever are the roles played by Cinna and Gale. Cinna, apparently, had the greatest sense of anticipation of any human who ever lived. The bulletproof Mockingjay costume was too much for me. Gale, although still pretty much a kid, is given high status in the revolutionary army. Somehow, the inner circle became Hunger Games winners and Gale. Suzanne Collins gave us no reason for this. It’s too ridiculous to happen without explanation.
Still, the biggest problem is Katniss. In Mockingjay, she has no autonomy. Nothing she says, nothing she wants, matters. No thought that generates in Katniss’ mind is valued. One of the dominating themes of both Catching Fire and Mockingjay is Katniss’ declaration that she will kill President Snow. She goes to great lengths to make sure she is in a position to end the man’s life. When presented with the opportunity, however, she purposely kills someone else instead. This type of thing is constant throughout the book. She does not do a single thing that she has consciously decided that she wants to do. That is not Katniss, and it is very disappointing. So many of Katniss’ choices are made for her, and she just goes along with them. Sometimes she offers nominal protest, but she allows people (mostly men) to make these choices for her. The Katniss of the first two novels would never allow that. That Katniss decided everything for herself. That Katniss is gone. This new one just does whatever the menfolk tell her to do.
She used to be proactive. She did what needed to be done. She’d been an outlaw her entire adolescence. Fear did not stop her. Hesitation and uncertainty were never problems for her. Yet, hesitation and uncertainty are all we see out of her in Mockingjay. The most drastic example is when Gale is captured by Peacekeepers and she violates their prearranged agreement to shoot each other if ever in danger of being taken captive.
It all feeds into the three most senseless things that occur in the book. The first is the resolution of the pseudo-love triangle that persists throughout the series. Will Katniss end up with Peeta or Gale? Which one will she choose? Well, in the end, Katniss does not choose. This is yet another choice that is made for her. There’s a scene about 85% into Mockingjay when Katniss is hiding with a few of the others. When the others think she is sleeping, she here’s a conversation between her two would-be suitors. Here is Katniss’ narration:
Next, was a mini-conference during which the revolutionaries were trying to decide if there should be one more occurrence of the Hunger Games, this time featuring the children of the Capitol. Katniss’ vote was to do it, “For Prim.” What? We’d read over two and a half books about how evil the Games are, and now she wants to set them up again? Then she changed her mind a few paragraphs later, again without explanation. Senseless and unnecessary.
The epilogue took it to a new place of nonsense. Katniss spent three novels declaring that she will never have children. She does not want them. Never has. But in the end, she has them anyway. Yet another instance of Katniss openly declaring something only to have some man convince her otherwise. “It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree,” she says. How very Tea Party of her.
F
Two names repeatedly rang through my head as I read Mockingjay: Michele Bachmann and Sarah Palin. Throughout this novel, Katniss Everdeen, who had previously been a woman of goals, aspirations, and independence, became a woman who personified the ideals professed by the two politicians. It was ridiculous. It was boring. It was very, very bad.
How bad was Mockingjay? Bad enough that from the moment I finished reading it on May 2, 2011, I did not pick up another book until September 24. Bad enough to earn a place on my personal Mt. Rushmore of bad books. What an awful book, and what an awful way to end the trilogy.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think The Hunger Games and Catching Fire were great books (I gave Catching Fire 2 stars out of 5). But there was enough in those two novels to see Katniss’ potential. I really, really liked her. In Mockingjay, the protagonist is not true to character. What we learned throughout The Hunger Games and Catching Fire is that Katniss is not a fearless warrior, but she does not allow her fear to stop her. She is a good heroine. One of the things that sticks out to me from The Hunger Games and Catching Fire is that Katniss does what she wants to do in both a small picture and big picture sense. Throughout the series, her goal is to protect her mother and sister; during the first novel, she takes on Peeta’s cause as well. During the second book, she decides that she’s not going to let the Capitol win. Even though she’s neither the smartest nor strongest, Katniss is focused on her goals and does whatever it takes to achieve them.
In Mockingjay, Katniss became someone who doesn’t follow through on anything. She does not fulfill a single purpose she had declared for herself. She does not follow through on a single thing she planned to do. Instead, she spends much of the novel in various drug-induced stupors and hiding out in medical wards or closets. As a result, the narrative structure of the novel falls apart. Katniss is not present for the vast majority of the action and important events; therefore, we readers receive a great deal of necessary information via long expositions that begin with phrases such as “This is what happened:” It makes Mockingjay a very disjointed, unentertaining read.
Two things that don’t may any sense whatsoever are the roles played by Cinna and Gale. Cinna, apparently, had the greatest sense of anticipation of any human who ever lived. The bulletproof Mockingjay costume was too much for me. Gale, although still pretty much a kid, is given high status in the revolutionary army. Somehow, the inner circle became Hunger Games winners and Gale. Suzanne Collins gave us no reason for this. It’s too ridiculous to happen without explanation.
Still, the biggest problem is Katniss. In Mockingjay, she has no autonomy. Nothing she says, nothing she wants, matters. No thought that generates in Katniss’ mind is valued. One of the dominating themes of both Catching Fire and Mockingjay is Katniss’ declaration that she will kill President Snow. She goes to great lengths to make sure she is in a position to end the man’s life. When presented with the opportunity, however, she purposely kills someone else instead. This type of thing is constant throughout the book. She does not do a single thing that she has consciously decided that she wants to do. That is not Katniss, and it is very disappointing. So many of Katniss’ choices are made for her, and she just goes along with them. Sometimes she offers nominal protest, but she allows people (mostly men) to make these choices for her. The Katniss of the first two novels would never allow that. That Katniss decided everything for herself. That Katniss is gone. This new one just does whatever the menfolk tell her to do.
She used to be proactive. She did what needed to be done. She’d been an outlaw her entire adolescence. Fear did not stop her. Hesitation and uncertainty were never problems for her. Yet, hesitation and uncertainty are all we see out of her in Mockingjay. The most drastic example is when Gale is captured by Peacekeepers and she violates their prearranged agreement to shoot each other if ever in danger of being taken captive.
It all feeds into the three most senseless things that occur in the book. The first is the resolution of the pseudo-love triangle that persists throughout the series. Will Katniss end up with Peeta or Gale? Which one will she choose? Well, in the end, Katniss does not choose. This is yet another choice that is made for her. There’s a scene about 85% into Mockingjay when Katniss is hiding with a few of the others. When the others think she is sleeping, she here’s a conversation between her two would-be suitors. Here is Katniss’ narration:
It’s so strange to hear them talking like this. Almost like friends. Which they’re not. Never have been. Although they’re not exactly enemies.That was a perfect setup for an epic resolution. Instead, as I said earlier, Katniss didn’t make that choice either. How anticlimactic can you get?
“She loves you, you know,” says Peeta. “She as good as told me after they whipped you.”
“Don’t believe it,” Gale answers. “The way she kissed you in the Quarter Quell…well, she never kissed me like that.”
“It was just part of the show,” Peeta tells him, although there’s an edge of doubt in his voice.
“No, you won her over. Gave up everything for her. Maybe that’s the only way to convince her you love her.” There’s a long pause. “I should have volunteered to take your place in the first Games. Protected her then.”
“You couldn’t,” says Peeta. “She’d never have forgiven you. You had to take care of her family. They matter more to her than her life.”
“Well, it won’t be an issue much longer. I think it’s unlikely all three of us will be alive at the end of the war. And if we are, I guess it’s Katniss’s problem. Who to choose.” Gale yawns. “We should get some sleep.”
“Yeah.” I hear Peeta’s handcuffs slide down the support as he settles in. “I wonder how she’ll make up her mind.”
“Oh, that I do know.” I can just catch Gale’s last words through the layer of fur. “Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can’t survive without.”
Next, was a mini-conference during which the revolutionaries were trying to decide if there should be one more occurrence of the Hunger Games, this time featuring the children of the Capitol. Katniss’ vote was to do it, “For Prim.” What? We’d read over two and a half books about how evil the Games are, and now she wants to set them up again? Then she changed her mind a few paragraphs later, again without explanation. Senseless and unnecessary.
The epilogue took it to a new place of nonsense. Katniss spent three novels declaring that she will never have children. She does not want them. Never has. But in the end, she has them anyway. Yet another instance of Katniss openly declaring something only to have some man convince her otherwise. “It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree,” she says. How very Tea Party of her.
F
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Destiny of the Republic
Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President by Candice Millard
What a great book. Candice Millard told the tale of James Garfield’s assassination in such an engrossing and fast-paced manner that I often had to remind myself this was a work of nonfiction. She did not make up quotes; she did not fill space with conjecture. Every word of quoted text was from a written record. And when she did not have facts, she used the words of the people who were there. Millard’s attention to detail is evident throughout the book. She is not a lazy researcher.
I read one review of Destiny of the Republic that compares it favorably to Devil in the White City. It might actually be better than Erik Larson’s masterpiece. This was just…superb.
Examinations of major events tend to fall into one of two categories: trying to cover everything or focusing on just one or two aspects. The attempts to cover everything usually fail. Destiny of the Republic was so impressive to me because Millard covered so many aspects of the event and did so very successfully. She was able to place Garfield, his assassin, and those who played supporting roles into time and place. She showed us how they all fit. From the very beginning, where she place Joseph Lister and Alexander Graham Bell just a few hundred feet from Garfield at the 1876 Centennial Exhibition in Chicago, she gave us the medical, technological, political, historical, and religious background we needed to know how all the players in this story converged at a critical place in world history.
I could write 5,000 words about this book, but they would do it no justice. Just go read it. If you enjoy history, politics, technology, madmen, or just a good old-fashioned murder story, I’m fairly certain you will love Destiny of the Republic.
A+
What a great book. Candice Millard told the tale of James Garfield’s assassination in such an engrossing and fast-paced manner that I often had to remind myself this was a work of nonfiction. She did not make up quotes; she did not fill space with conjecture. Every word of quoted text was from a written record. And when she did not have facts, she used the words of the people who were there. Millard’s attention to detail is evident throughout the book. She is not a lazy researcher.
I read one review of Destiny of the Republic that compares it favorably to Devil in the White City. It might actually be better than Erik Larson’s masterpiece. This was just…superb.
Examinations of major events tend to fall into one of two categories: trying to cover everything or focusing on just one or two aspects. The attempts to cover everything usually fail. Destiny of the Republic was so impressive to me because Millard covered so many aspects of the event and did so very successfully. She was able to place Garfield, his assassin, and those who played supporting roles into time and place. She showed us how they all fit. From the very beginning, where she place Joseph Lister and Alexander Graham Bell just a few hundred feet from Garfield at the 1876 Centennial Exhibition in Chicago, she gave us the medical, technological, political, historical, and religious background we needed to know how all the players in this story converged at a critical place in world history.
I could write 5,000 words about this book, but they would do it no justice. Just go read it. If you enjoy history, politics, technology, madmen, or just a good old-fashioned murder story, I’m fairly certain you will love Destiny of the Republic.
A+
Monday, March 19, 2012
2.1 Seconds
The Last Great Game: Duke vs. Kentucky and the 2.1 Seconds That Changed Basketball by Gene Wojciechowski
This was not a good book. First of all, it wasn’t really a book. It was more like a collection of essays about the Duke and Kentucky basketball programs. It was cohesive in that everything led toward the classic 1992 East Regional Final played between the two teams, but The Last Great Game was a very disjointed read.
Let me talk about that title, The Last Great Game: Duke vs. Kentucky and the 2.1 Seconds that Changed Basketball, for a bit:
This was a mess. This book does that game no justice.
C-
This was not a good book. First of all, it wasn’t really a book. It was more like a collection of essays about the Duke and Kentucky basketball programs. It was cohesive in that everything led toward the classic 1992 East Regional Final played between the two teams, but The Last Great Game was a very disjointed read.
Let me talk about that title, The Last Great Game: Duke vs. Kentucky and the 2.1 Seconds that Changed Basketball, for a bit:
- The Last Great Game: The primary title suggests that the book would be about the game, which is generally considered the greatest college basketball game of all time. The game is, I believe, worthy of a book telling its tale. This was not it. The game does not begin until the 67% point. The final 9% is comprised of the acknowledgements, references, and index; the actual text does begin at the 1% mark. This means that nearly three-quarters of the book is gone before the game for which it is titled actually begins. Once it does begin, only a tenth of the book actually discusses the first 44 minutes and 57.9 seconds of the game. Wojciechowski tells the game first from the Kentucky point of view, and then from Duke’s. This approach causes one to read about the entirety of the game two times. Both, however, are rushed. No, this book is not about the game. The game is just a backdrop.
- Duke vs. Kentucky: As I said earlier, this book is about the programs and how great Rick Pitino and Mike Krzyzewski are. It is also a series of puff pieces about how great a guy and very misunderstood Christian Laettner is and how wonderful Kentucky’s Unforgettables are. This is a Duke book and a Kentucky book all wrapped into one package. Duke’s games against Indiana, UNLV, and Michigan seem to be given more weight and importance in this book than did the one versus Kentucky.
- 2.1 Seconds that Changed Basketball: Wojciechowski did spend an entire chapter on the Grant Hill to Christian Laettner play, but there was no discussion of the play’s impact on basketball. Sure, it changed who won that year’s national championship, but doesn’t every NCAA tournament game-winner? There was no real meaning derived. It was just: this is what happened, it was great, and there were no losers on that day.
This was a mess. This book does that game no justice.
C-
Sunday, March 18, 2012
The Looking Glass War
The Looking Glass War by John le Carré
There is a valuable lesson in this book: when an author uses a novel’s introduction to suggest it may be his worst, believe him. Of the four books I’ve written by John le Carré, The Looking Glass War is clearly the worst. le Carré seems to have issues carrying his stories when the plot is not singularly focused, when he is trying to make a negative point about some aspect of British culture. We saw this when le Carré tackled the prep school system in A Murder of Quality, and this time the author tries to express his disgust with the disorganization and second-rate stature of the British Intelligence system.
The Looking Glass War is divided into three primary sections: Taylor’s Run, Avery’s Run, and Leiser’s Run. Taylor’s Run and Leiser’s Run are each divided into three subsections: Prelude, Take-Off, and Homecoming. After Taylor’s Run, this novel does not again get remotely interesting until the Take-Off Section of Leiser’s Run, the sixth of the seven total sections. Everything in between is a meandering tale of British Intelligence infighting and inferiority complex.
The characters are not at all compelling. le Carré spends a lot of time whining about the characters’ wives (they are all annoying and undermining). Every single one of the married men is brought down in some way by his wife. The men are all intelligence officers, but their wives all demand to know the job secrets, and the men always tell them.
George Smiley, of course, is not married. His wife left him in the first novel, so he and Adrian Haldane, another unmarried man, are the only ones able to maintain a level head. It is clear that even more than women, le Carré hates marriage. And his love for Smiley is so over the top. He goes out of his way to show how much in love he is with the character he created.
The other big takeaway from The Looking Glass War is one I’m not certain le Carré intended. Leiser is a British immigrant from Poland. Years earlier than the events of this novel, Leiser worked as a spy during World War II. As he’s thrust back into action, we readers get to see intimate details of his interactions with very important British men he’s meeting for the first time. The way le Carré writes both Leiser’s feelings and those of the British officers during their interactions, I can see that the author is a believer in British superiority. Leiser is not and can never be a true Briton; he’s a Pole. He is less than them. They know it. He knows it. And no one ever needs to voice it because it is a given. And, in the world of the characters and the author, it is just.
No, I did not like this book. But I have completed all four novels that precede the Karla trilogy. My hope is that the singular focus of a case that spans three novels will take le Carré’s writing back to what he does best. We’ll see how it goes.
D-
There is a valuable lesson in this book: when an author uses a novel’s introduction to suggest it may be his worst, believe him. Of the four books I’ve written by John le Carré, The Looking Glass War is clearly the worst. le Carré seems to have issues carrying his stories when the plot is not singularly focused, when he is trying to make a negative point about some aspect of British culture. We saw this when le Carré tackled the prep school system in A Murder of Quality, and this time the author tries to express his disgust with the disorganization and second-rate stature of the British Intelligence system.
The Looking Glass War is divided into three primary sections: Taylor’s Run, Avery’s Run, and Leiser’s Run. Taylor’s Run and Leiser’s Run are each divided into three subsections: Prelude, Take-Off, and Homecoming. After Taylor’s Run, this novel does not again get remotely interesting until the Take-Off Section of Leiser’s Run, the sixth of the seven total sections. Everything in between is a meandering tale of British Intelligence infighting and inferiority complex.
The characters are not at all compelling. le Carré spends a lot of time whining about the characters’ wives (they are all annoying and undermining). Every single one of the married men is brought down in some way by his wife. The men are all intelligence officers, but their wives all demand to know the job secrets, and the men always tell them.
George Smiley, of course, is not married. His wife left him in the first novel, so he and Adrian Haldane, another unmarried man, are the only ones able to maintain a level head. It is clear that even more than women, le Carré hates marriage. And his love for Smiley is so over the top. He goes out of his way to show how much in love he is with the character he created.
The other big takeaway from The Looking Glass War is one I’m not certain le Carré intended. Leiser is a British immigrant from Poland. Years earlier than the events of this novel, Leiser worked as a spy during World War II. As he’s thrust back into action, we readers get to see intimate details of his interactions with very important British men he’s meeting for the first time. The way le Carré writes both Leiser’s feelings and those of the British officers during their interactions, I can see that the author is a believer in British superiority. Leiser is not and can never be a true Briton; he’s a Pole. He is less than them. They know it. He knows it. And no one ever needs to voice it because it is a given. And, in the world of the characters and the author, it is just.
No, I did not like this book. But I have completed all four novels that precede the Karla trilogy. My hope is that the singular focus of a case that spans three novels will take le Carré’s writing back to what he does best. We’ll see how it goes.
D-
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Countdown
Countdown by Mira Grant
This was the best zombie origin story I’ve ever read. I like Mira Grant’s writing style, at least as it pertains to her Newsflesh world (I’ve not read any of her other work). Countdown is the story of the original infestation, the tale of how the world we know ceased to exist and the era of zombies came to be. If you like zombies or just apocalyptic work, you’ll probably enjoy Countdown.
A+
This was the best zombie origin story I’ve ever read. I like Mira Grant’s writing style, at least as it pertains to her Newsflesh world (I’ve not read any of her other work). Countdown is the story of the original infestation, the tale of how the world we know ceased to exist and the era of zombies came to be. If you like zombies or just apocalyptic work, you’ll probably enjoy Countdown.
A+
Friday, March 2, 2012
Death to the BCS
Death to the BCS: The Definitive Case Against the Bowl Championship Series by Dan Wetzel and Josh Peter
Before I get into the negatives, I have to give the authors of the book a ton of credit for the amount of research they put into this project. They invested a lot of time and effort into crafting their proposal for a 16-team college football playoff and conducted hundreds of interviews in condemning the BCS. It was well thought out and well crafted. The problem: their assertions are not entirely true.
As the title suggests, much of this book was spent demonizing the BCS. That’s fair. The authors never once mentioned, though, that the BCS was better than all the systems that came before it. The open bowl system, the Bowl Coalition, and the Bowl Alliance all failed to do what the Bowl Championship Series has been able to do. In fact, the two seasons immediately prior to the first under the BCS featured bowl seasons during which undefeated teams ranked #1 and #2 in the nation played in separate bowl games. Throughout the entirety of college football history, there were only 11 bowl games that paired the top two teams in the country. The authors give the BCS no credit for this. Even a takedown of a poor system should acknowledge that system’s successes. Failing to do so is dishonest.
The authors of Death to the BCS continually hammer home the assertion that the BCS has been bad for college football. In reality, none of the ills they blame on the system are BCS-specific. The authors’ problems with the system are actually problems with the bowl-only system that has existed since the inception of the Rose Bowl. The BCS makes an easy and sexy target, but it is not the true culprit of the crimes charged by the authors.
This book is also a long exhibition of naivety. University presidents are chided for being gullible and naïve enough to let conference commissioners handle the football business. The presidents are not dumb; they know what they are doing. Colleges are about making money and the presidents’ jobs are, to a great extent, to maximize their schools’ earnings. And, contrary to what the authors of this book would have you believe, earning a higher dollar amount does not always mean making more money. It is more advantageous for the schools in the power conferences to earn a lower dollar amount while maintaining a stranglehold on a larger piece of the pie than it is to gross higher revenues from a larger share. Holding a higher percentage of the pot means more power. That’s a simple concept; Death to the BCS ignores it.
One great untruth perpetrated in the book is that the BCS is responsible for teams jumping conferences. The fact is that the BCS was largely necessitated by conference realignment. The formation of Big East football is probably the biggest factor that led to the BCS’ creation. As recently as the late 1980s, all of the major programs in the northeast were independents. Penn State joined the Big Ten, but Syracuse, Pittsburgh, West Virginia, and one southern school, Miami, gave up their independence to form Big East football. Before the Big East, most of the major bowls had only one (at most) conference tie-in and were able to field attractive matchups because of the independents. The Big East reduced the number of independents to Notre Dame, BYU, and the service academies. As a result, conference tie-ins became a requirement for bowl survival and marquis matchups in the Sugar, Orange, and Fiesta Bowls became harder to create.
Another is the myth that the BCS is the official champion. It is not. The NCAA does not recognize a champion in Division I-A (FBS). This idea was brought forth in a chapter about the USC-LSU split national championship of 2003. Apparently, LSU fans feel that their official championship is delegitimized by USC fans’ claim of being the best team in the country that season. It’s an asinine argument that had no place in the book. Split national championships will always be a possibility when there is no playoff. They were legit before the BCS; they are legit under the BCS. Nothing makes the BCS national championship more important or more official than the AP (or any other voting organization) championship. LSU and USC are both real champions of 2003. LSU fans have no gripe. The NCAA is the official body of collegiate athletics, and they don’t recognize any champion of that level. Revel in your championship and shut up.
The biggest lie in the book, though, is the idea that ESPN levels the college football playing field and makes going to a power program a not so big deal. ESPN money is what drives the conference realignment. The pooled conference TV and bowl money (ESPN runs many bowls) is the force behind what the authors are trying to tear down.
I’m no fan of the BCS, but I get annoyed when I see arguments supported by inadequate evidence.
My biggest gripe with the book is that no consideration is given to the players who play the games. The authors desire a 16-team playoff. That means the national championship would feature teams playing in 3 postseason games. Today, each team only plays one. I find adding games to the college football season a ridiculous idea. Football is a brutal, rough game. Don’t tell me about FCS and Division II and III; those games aren’t nearly as physical and fast as the FBS game. Early in the 2011 season, I remarked that I would never draft South Carolina running back Marcus Lattimore. He gets too many carries for my liking. He was injured a few weeks later, and the time missed, ironically, may help to lengthen his NFL career, extending the time during which he’ll actually get paid for getting his body broken. Asking these unpaid kids to play more games at this level is absurd. We don’t need to know who the best team is that badly (and, to be honest, the more teams that play for a championship means the less likely it is that the best team will win the championship).
No, I didn’t really feel this book at all, and I think the penultimate paragraph really says it all: “When presidents see what’s really going on, and when the media learns the particulars of the system, and when fans clear the smoke screens, and when everyone collectively ignores the misdirection and forces the Cartel to address the reality of its racket, and when the ideals espoused by Joe Paterno supplant those of Jim Delaney—that’s when the BCS falls like a house of cards.”
C-
Before I get into the negatives, I have to give the authors of the book a ton of credit for the amount of research they put into this project. They invested a lot of time and effort into crafting their proposal for a 16-team college football playoff and conducted hundreds of interviews in condemning the BCS. It was well thought out and well crafted. The problem: their assertions are not entirely true.
As the title suggests, much of this book was spent demonizing the BCS. That’s fair. The authors never once mentioned, though, that the BCS was better than all the systems that came before it. The open bowl system, the Bowl Coalition, and the Bowl Alliance all failed to do what the Bowl Championship Series has been able to do. In fact, the two seasons immediately prior to the first under the BCS featured bowl seasons during which undefeated teams ranked #1 and #2 in the nation played in separate bowl games. Throughout the entirety of college football history, there were only 11 bowl games that paired the top two teams in the country. The authors give the BCS no credit for this. Even a takedown of a poor system should acknowledge that system’s successes. Failing to do so is dishonest.
The authors of Death to the BCS continually hammer home the assertion that the BCS has been bad for college football. In reality, none of the ills they blame on the system are BCS-specific. The authors’ problems with the system are actually problems with the bowl-only system that has existed since the inception of the Rose Bowl. The BCS makes an easy and sexy target, but it is not the true culprit of the crimes charged by the authors.
This book is also a long exhibition of naivety. University presidents are chided for being gullible and naïve enough to let conference commissioners handle the football business. The presidents are not dumb; they know what they are doing. Colleges are about making money and the presidents’ jobs are, to a great extent, to maximize their schools’ earnings. And, contrary to what the authors of this book would have you believe, earning a higher dollar amount does not always mean making more money. It is more advantageous for the schools in the power conferences to earn a lower dollar amount while maintaining a stranglehold on a larger piece of the pie than it is to gross higher revenues from a larger share. Holding a higher percentage of the pot means more power. That’s a simple concept; Death to the BCS ignores it.
One great untruth perpetrated in the book is that the BCS is responsible for teams jumping conferences. The fact is that the BCS was largely necessitated by conference realignment. The formation of Big East football is probably the biggest factor that led to the BCS’ creation. As recently as the late 1980s, all of the major programs in the northeast were independents. Penn State joined the Big Ten, but Syracuse, Pittsburgh, West Virginia, and one southern school, Miami, gave up their independence to form Big East football. Before the Big East, most of the major bowls had only one (at most) conference tie-in and were able to field attractive matchups because of the independents. The Big East reduced the number of independents to Notre Dame, BYU, and the service academies. As a result, conference tie-ins became a requirement for bowl survival and marquis matchups in the Sugar, Orange, and Fiesta Bowls became harder to create.
Another is the myth that the BCS is the official champion. It is not. The NCAA does not recognize a champion in Division I-A (FBS). This idea was brought forth in a chapter about the USC-LSU split national championship of 2003. Apparently, LSU fans feel that their official championship is delegitimized by USC fans’ claim of being the best team in the country that season. It’s an asinine argument that had no place in the book. Split national championships will always be a possibility when there is no playoff. They were legit before the BCS; they are legit under the BCS. Nothing makes the BCS national championship more important or more official than the AP (or any other voting organization) championship. LSU and USC are both real champions of 2003. LSU fans have no gripe. The NCAA is the official body of collegiate athletics, and they don’t recognize any champion of that level. Revel in your championship and shut up.
The biggest lie in the book, though, is the idea that ESPN levels the college football playing field and makes going to a power program a not so big deal. ESPN money is what drives the conference realignment. The pooled conference TV and bowl money (ESPN runs many bowls) is the force behind what the authors are trying to tear down.
I’m no fan of the BCS, but I get annoyed when I see arguments supported by inadequate evidence.
My biggest gripe with the book is that no consideration is given to the players who play the games. The authors desire a 16-team playoff. That means the national championship would feature teams playing in 3 postseason games. Today, each team only plays one. I find adding games to the college football season a ridiculous idea. Football is a brutal, rough game. Don’t tell me about FCS and Division II and III; those games aren’t nearly as physical and fast as the FBS game. Early in the 2011 season, I remarked that I would never draft South Carolina running back Marcus Lattimore. He gets too many carries for my liking. He was injured a few weeks later, and the time missed, ironically, may help to lengthen his NFL career, extending the time during which he’ll actually get paid for getting his body broken. Asking these unpaid kids to play more games at this level is absurd. We don’t need to know who the best team is that badly (and, to be honest, the more teams that play for a championship means the less likely it is that the best team will win the championship).
No, I didn’t really feel this book at all, and I think the penultimate paragraph really says it all: “When presidents see what’s really going on, and when the media learns the particulars of the system, and when fans clear the smoke screens, and when everyone collectively ignores the misdirection and forces the Cartel to address the reality of its racket, and when the ideals espoused by Joe Paterno supplant those of Jim Delaney—that’s when the BCS falls like a house of cards.”
C-
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