Category Archives: Reviews

Play Dead, by Harlan Coben

Perhaps with a little embarrassment, author Harlan Coben prefaces this new edition of his first novel with “A Note From the Author.” He begins the note, “Okay, if this is the first book of mine you’re going to try, stop now. Return it. Grab another. It’s okay. I’ll wait.”

Words in season. I like Coben’s books very much, but Play Dead is a classic example of that deadly subgenre, the badly overwritten first novel. One of the many temptations to which unproven authors fall prey is the one to tell the reader too much, to put everything into the book. Clearly, on the evidence of his later work, Coben has learned a lot in the intervening years. But Play Dead (he says in his Note that he left it as it stands because he considers it dishonest to re-write an earlier book) is too long, too verbose, and awkward. It’s like a teenager who’s outgrown his muscles, impressive in his height, but bad in his coordination. Continue reading Play Dead, by Harlan Coben →

Much Obliged, Jeeves

Bertie Wooster loves his Aunt Dahlia, even though she has an ugly habit of leveraging him into some kind of theft. It would be for a good cause, of course, but if you’ve ever read Wooster’s adventures in the world outside his London flat, you’ll know it won’t go well. In this book, however, he is spared such pressure from his beloved Aunt–who employs the best French chef in a hundred miles (no small benefit). Instead, she wants him to knock on doors for one of his old university friends who is running for the House of Commons. That doesn’t prevent him from being accused of being a theft by the Lord of Sidcup, that Baron of Black Shorts, Roderick Spode.

I have been reading the stories of Wooster and Jeeves in relatively the order of their writing, but this is the first one which referred to events I didn’t remember, despite the familiar characters. And the familiar story too. This one didn’t surprise me a few times, and while it was wonderfully fun, it didn’t have a few zany scenes like others I’ve read.

One thing I love is Wodehouse’s style of having a character comment on something that isn’t described in the text. For instance, Jeeves was telling Bertie how something surprising unfolded, then in the same paragraph without pausing for description, he says, “I wouldn’t jerk the wheel so sharply, sir. It could alarm the other drivers.”

Perhaps, you’d have to be there to get the feel of it.

Much Obliged, Jeeves is not a good place to start reading Wodehouse’s terrific stories about Wooster and Jeeves, but it is a recommended part of the series. I enjoyed it.

Television Review: Sherlock: A Study In Pink

Although we naturally (and quite rightly) think of Sherlock Holmes as a character comfortably ensconced in Victorian London, with its hansom cabs rattling down cobblestone streets, yellow fog, and helmeted bobbies, the idea of updating the character isn’t actually a new one. The early Holmes films were always set in the year of their production, just as we today think nothing of seeing James Bond (whose stories were written in the 1950s and ’60s) using a laptop computer or carrying a cell phone. The first Holmes film actually set in period was The Hound of the Baskervilles, starring Basil Rathbone, released by Twentieth Century Fox in 1939. Then, after one more Victorian film for Fox (The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes), the series moved to Universal and back to the cheaper approach of updating.

I was prepared to dislike the new BBC series Sherlock, broadcast on PBS, but to my surprise I quite liked it. The new Holmes operates as a police consultant in contemporary London. The police are suspicious of him (one accuses him of being a “psychopath,” to which he replies that he’s a high-functioning sociopath). He doesn’t wear a deerstalker or Inverness cape, but those costume elements have tended to be overused (and inappropriately used) in films and TV shows anyway. The modern world doesn’t allow him to smoke, so he relies on multiple nicotine patches when he needs to think out a problem. He does take drugs. The actor who plays him (one who rejoices in the name Benedict Cumberbatch) looks too young for the part, but has the attitude exactly right. Continue reading Television Review: Sherlock: A Study In Pink →

The Book of the Dun Cow, by Walter Wangerin

Despite all of the praise I heard for The Book of the Dun Cow, I still smirked through the first few chapters. It has a great setup for a terrible challenge to the earth, even the galaxy, but the characters are farm animals. How terrifying can a story get with a proud rooster for a leading man? But then if I understood myself properly in relation to the God of heaven and earth and the fatally wounded enemy who still plots our defeat, I may think of mankind in the same way–mere animals standing between the Almighty and the Lord of the Flies.

Let me briefly give you the plot. Chauntecleer, the rooster, is lord over a patch of farmland, field, and forest. He is king and cleric to the animals who live there, crowing canonical blessings throughout the day to give their lives order and spiritual purpose. Far away, another farm and another rooster have slacked off holding the order of the day, giving a profound and powerful evil an opportunity to fight for its freedom. The animals are called Wyrm’s Keepers, though I doubt they would recognize the label. By keeping their proper order, they unknowingly keep the evil Wyrm imprisoned, so when one farm has grown tired of the cares of the world, Wyrm exploits his opportunity. Gradually, you might say, all of something breaks loose.

I love most in this story the animals leaning on their daily order, their time-honored tradition. It gave their dirt-scratching, grub-hunting, cleaning, and sleeping greater meaning and consequently greater peace. From Lauds to Compline, Chauntecleer crows through the day, usually because that’s how its done, but when their world become overcast with troubling clouds, he crows to bless those creatures he cares for. In a somewhat comical way, it’s glorious.

And there’s a good bit of comedy throughout the book too. John Wesley Weasel and Mundo Cani Dog are hilarious in their own way as is the rooster’s obnoxious pride.

I have to wonder how much of this fantasy is reality. How much or what kind of grace does the Lord give us through liturgy and the mental transformation he calls us to by meditating on his precepts throughout the day? What is robbed from us when we think of our lives and world in secular terms, when we see the planet instead of creation, when we look into space instead of the heavens? Would we keep the evil imprisoned a little more if we gave ourselves and our families lauds and vespers?

Rough Country, by John Sandford

Minnesota mystery author John Sandford (John Camp) has not given up his hugely popular series of “Prey” novels featuring millionaire cop Lucas Davenport, but Davenport’s getting a little domestic and long in the tooth these days. In order to continue writing books with sex appeal, Sandford has launched a new series featuring Davenport’s associate Virgil Flowers. While Davenport fulfills male fantasies by having powerful, expensive cars that he drives very fast, Flowers’ fantasy appeal is more organic. Aside from his remarkable clearance rate as a detective, Flowers is apparently walking candy to women (although the author derives a lot of comedy out of frustrating his desires in this particular story).

Readers tired of sex in novels are advised to stay away from Rough Country, the latest Virgil Flowers. Its very setting—a women-only fishing resort in northern Minnesota, frequented by a number of lesbians—guarantees a large degree of sexual tension, and a certain amount of discomfort when a male detective—even a fashionably broad-minded one like Flowers—starts investigating its affairs. Continue reading Rough Country, by John Sandford →

A Voyage Long and Strange

I didn’t dislike Tony Horwitz’ rambling book, A Voyage Long and Strange. He’s a likeable writer. One assumes his political preferences are liberal, but he works very hard to give everybody a fair hearing, not just the contemporaries he meets on his journeys across America, but the historical figures whose footsteps he attempts to follow.

The germ of the book was conceived when he made an accidental stopover in Plymouth, Massachusetts, was unimpressed with the sight of Plymouth Rock, and began to wonder why, out of all the pre-colonial and colonial American settlements, we’ve chosen Plymouth Plantation as the birthplace of the American idea. He decided to follow the trail of the chief European explorers and settlers who predated Plymouth, to try to evaluate their relative contributions.

In this goal, I believe, he fails utterly. Still, the story is amusing and informative. Horwitz is good company, and has a charmingly self-deprecating voice. Continue reading A Voyage Long and Strange →

Man-Kzin Wars XI, by Hal Colebatch, Matthew Joseph Harrington, and Larry Niven


I reviewed Man-Kzin Wars X: The Wunder War a while back. This is the sequel. My friend Hal Colebatch, who wrote all the stories of the previous volume, contributes the bulk of Man-Kzin Wars XI too, but the other authors’ stories are also excellent.
The background (these books are set in Larry Niven’s Ringworld universe) is that the warlike Kzin race, large creatures very much like intelligent lions (with a sort of Roman/Samurai ethic) were raging across the universe, subduing one intelligent species after another, until they ran into the apparently helpless humans, who’d lived in peace so long they’d forgotten how to fight. But humans, it turned out, are born killers, and once they got their footing again they stopped the Kzin cold. The stories of this volume, except for some flashbacks, involve the time after the Kzin surrender, when a few humans and Kzin on the planet Wunderland are tentatively learning to cooperate. Members of both species are coming to believe the unthinkable—that their clash was actually good for both sides, teaching them new ideas and new sensibilities. Continue reading Man-Kzin Wars XI, by Hal Colebatch, Matthew Joseph Harrington, and Larry Niven →

Njal's Saga

I just finished reading Njal’s Saga again today (actually Magnusson’s and Pálsson’s translation, not the new one pictured above). It would be pointless to review such a classic, but I thought I’d jot down a few reader’s impressions, fancying myself (as I do) a fairly knowledgeable reader.



Njal’s Saga
is often named as the greatest of all the Icelandic sagas. It’s not my favorite; I prefer the more action-oriented sagas like Egil’s and Grettir’s. That’s not to say Njal’s Saga lacks action. There’s plenty. The body count piles up like kills in a Stallone movie. But Njal’s is perhaps the most reflective saga, the saga that worries most about its soul.

The central character, of course, is the title character, Njal Thorgeirsson. He’s not the hero; there are actually two heroes, Gunnar and Kari, both mighty warriors of whom Schwarzenegger is not worthy. Njal, by contrast, is a man of peace. He’s famed for his wisdom and shrewdness, not for his martial skills. He can’t even grow a beard, a fact that makes him the target of some contempt. In spite of his efforts, his family gets caught in a cycle of killing and revenge that leads to his death (and his family’s) by burning, in his own house. Continue reading Njal's Saga →

Klavan reviews Ellroy

Thriller writer nonpareil Andrew Klavan reviews James Ellroy’s new memoir, The Hilliker Curse, for the Wall Street Journal.

He admires the book, but sees (plausibly, in my view) some things the author apparently hasn’t noticed.

It would be pretty to think so. Yet one has the feeling that there is as much hidden here as revealed, that Mr. Ellroy’s belligerent candor disguises some deeper and still secret shame. How could it be otherwise? Every confession is also a mask. As all good crime writers understand: There’s no bottom to the perversity of the human heart.