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charameiAs promised. See, I'm being good about reviewing the books I read, even if I'm not so good about writing or blogging stuff right now.
(Still haven't watched the last three episodes of Eleven. I also haven't listened to the last hour of Legend of the Cybermen, the first half of which is utter brilliance. Guess which is likely to happen first on the Who mountain).
This month, we have... a classic that inspired the superhero genre, and a Doctor Who book that's absolutely fantastic!
The Krillitane Storm (Tenth Doctor Adventures, Christopher Cooper)
Now that I have a job, I'm starting to think about moving out, and that requires me to pare down my library until it can fit in one room, never mind one bookshelf (gulp). One of the places I'm most likely to hit is the DW books: three out of every four of them are pretty crap, certainly not worth another read. Mostly I keep reading them so I can find the good ones: so far, that's Prisoner of the Daleks, Autonomy... and The Krillitane Storm.
In fact, I'd say it's better than both of those.
Prisoner is chilling and never talks down to its readers: Autonomy is complex, coherent and clever. Krillitane Storm talks down a little more than either of them, but not enough to really annoy me (*cough*David Llewellyn*cough*), and is arguably even more complex, coherent and clever than Autonomy.
In these 60,000 words, Christopher Cooper introduces and handles six separate factions, all with their own goals, motivations and quirks - more impressively still, two of them are Krillitane (and one of those briefly splits into a third faction). He takes the reader on a whirlwind tour of medieval Worcester, dropping some fantastic comments on medieval city defenses and layout; he ties Christian mythology and Whoniverse together; he creates, from scratch as far as I could tell, an entire background and culture for the Krillitane race, one that makes sense and doesn't contradict anything we saw in School Reunion. He keeps suspense for over half the book as to just what incidental companion Emily's really up to, and although that's ruined by a sudden and incredible descent into cliche for half a page, that is the only place in the entire novel where he drops the ball.
He lays Chekhov's Guns and fires them juuuuust as you've forgotten about them (though admittedly, this was probably helped by my reading on the train rather than in one sitting). The book is laugh-out-loud funny*, terrifying and informative, often all in the same chapter. I am in awe.
Read this one. For God's sake, read it. There's no filler here, no deus ex machinae or grinning villains with no agenda but to rule/eat/be evil. Every character's a person, every plot point is laid in advance, every page is a new experience. With the exception of that one half-page where things go a bit skewiff, this is what these books should be.
*Relatedly, the single best written version of the Tenth Doctor I've ever read can be found on pages 213-214.
The Scarlet Pimpernel (Baroness Orczy)
Technically I read this one first (my reading pattern goes real book - Who book - real book), but as is probably obvious I'm a bit fired up about The Krillitane Storm. So.
You know how I complain about handholding? Well, it's understandable in a kid's book, if not excusable in my opinion. It's definitely not excusable in an adult's book. The Scarlet Pimpernel was worse for it than Night of the Humans, and that's saying something. I found that constantly having the plot reiterated to me - on some occasions two or three times in a double-page spread - slowed it down to a crawl.
And also - and here's where I fall into the trap of calling the inspiration for a genre a cliche - it was really, painfully obvious to me what was going on throughout the second half of the book. When I was meant to be in suspense and worried for Marguerite, I was in fact rolling my eyes and calling her an idiot.
Was that because I have the advantage of a century's worth of culture acclimatisation that Orczy didn't? Partly, I'm sure. But disguise as a trope was around long before the superhero began using it - it goes back to the Odyssey, probably further still. And I've never felt the urge to call Penelope an idiot for not recognising her husband. I almost get the feeling that the reader is supposed to be in on the joke and laughing at Marguerite, in the same way as modern audiences will snigger at Lois Lane's lack of facial recognition skills. But we're repeatedly told that she's clever.
But mostly, when I spend more time analysing a piece of media as I read it than enjoying it as I read it, something's gone wrong.
(Still haven't watched the last three episodes of Eleven. I also haven't listened to the last hour of Legend of the Cybermen, the first half of which is utter brilliance. Guess which is likely to happen first on the Who mountain).
This month, we have... a classic that inspired the superhero genre, and a Doctor Who book that's absolutely fantastic!
The Krillitane Storm (Tenth Doctor Adventures, Christopher Cooper)
Now that I have a job, I'm starting to think about moving out, and that requires me to pare down my library until it can fit in one room, never mind one bookshelf (gulp). One of the places I'm most likely to hit is the DW books: three out of every four of them are pretty crap, certainly not worth another read. Mostly I keep reading them so I can find the good ones: so far, that's Prisoner of the Daleks, Autonomy... and The Krillitane Storm.
In fact, I'd say it's better than both of those.
Prisoner is chilling and never talks down to its readers: Autonomy is complex, coherent and clever. Krillitane Storm talks down a little more than either of them, but not enough to really annoy me (*cough*David Llewellyn*cough*), and is arguably even more complex, coherent and clever than Autonomy.
In these 60,000 words, Christopher Cooper introduces and handles six separate factions, all with their own goals, motivations and quirks - more impressively still, two of them are Krillitane (and one of those briefly splits into a third faction). He takes the reader on a whirlwind tour of medieval Worcester, dropping some fantastic comments on medieval city defenses and layout; he ties Christian mythology and Whoniverse together; he creates, from scratch as far as I could tell, an entire background and culture for the Krillitane race, one that makes sense and doesn't contradict anything we saw in School Reunion. He keeps suspense for over half the book as to just what incidental companion Emily's really up to, and although that's ruined by a sudden and incredible descent into cliche for half a page, that is the only place in the entire novel where he drops the ball.
He lays Chekhov's Guns and fires them juuuuust as you've forgotten about them (though admittedly, this was probably helped by my reading on the train rather than in one sitting). The book is laugh-out-loud funny*, terrifying and informative, often all in the same chapter. I am in awe.
Read this one. For God's sake, read it. There's no filler here, no deus ex machinae or grinning villains with no agenda but to rule/eat/be evil. Every character's a person, every plot point is laid in advance, every page is a new experience. With the exception of that one half-page where things go a bit skewiff, this is what these books should be.
*Relatedly, the single best written version of the Tenth Doctor I've ever read can be found on pages 213-214.
The Scarlet Pimpernel (Baroness Orczy)
Technically I read this one first (my reading pattern goes real book - Who book - real book), but as is probably obvious I'm a bit fired up about The Krillitane Storm. So.
You know how I complain about handholding? Well, it's understandable in a kid's book, if not excusable in my opinion. It's definitely not excusable in an adult's book. The Scarlet Pimpernel was worse for it than Night of the Humans, and that's saying something. I found that constantly having the plot reiterated to me - on some occasions two or three times in a double-page spread - slowed it down to a crawl.
And also - and here's where I fall into the trap of calling the inspiration for a genre a cliche - it was really, painfully obvious to me what was going on throughout the second half of the book. When I was meant to be in suspense and worried for Marguerite, I was in fact rolling my eyes and calling her an idiot.
Was that because I have the advantage of a century's worth of culture acclimatisation that Orczy didn't? Partly, I'm sure. But disguise as a trope was around long before the superhero began using it - it goes back to the Odyssey, probably further still. And I've never felt the urge to call Penelope an idiot for not recognising her husband. I almost get the feeling that the reader is supposed to be in on the joke and laughing at Marguerite, in the same way as modern audiences will snigger at Lois Lane's lack of facial recognition skills. But we're repeatedly told that she's clever.
But mostly, when I spend more time analysing a piece of media as I read it than enjoying it as I read it, something's gone wrong.