Category Archives: Fiction

Mommy, Why Is That Man Changing in a Phone Booth?

Superman, Save Our Tourism Revenue!Anthony Sacramone talks about the newest take on Superman. He likes it.

“Sitting in a church pew with a stained glass image of Christ in Gethsemane over his shoulder, Clark agonizes over his fate. And what does the minister say? “What does your gut tell you?” Right. A very American minister, he. No other otherworldly advice does he offer. I mean, Clark may be from Krypton, but he was raised by Kansans, and his earth Mom (Diane Lane) has that cross around her neck. SOME talk of another kind of savior must have reached earshot in his 30-plus years…

But the overall themes are strong, he says.

“Man of Steel brings home the message that Superman isn’t great because he has X-ray vision and flies like an eagle and can withstand bullets. He’s great because of the old-fashioned values he learned from his adoptive parents on a farm in Kansas. He’s our hero not because he’s strong but because he’s good.”

Break In, by Dick Francis

Reviewing a Dick Francis book seems almost a redundancy, unless you’re reviewing one of his misfires. Which is unfair, because the misfires are very rare. So I’ll go ahead and tell you about Break In, one of the master’s best.

Kit Fielding is a champion steeplechase jockey who rides for some prominent owners, including a European princess whose charming niece shows up to provide romantic interest. But there’s trouble in Kit’s family. His twin sister Holly – with whom he shares a moderate psychic link – has been rash enough to marry Bobby Allardeck, scion of a racing family with which the Fieldings have been feuding – sometimes to the point of bloodshed – for centuries. Bobby has been disinherited by his millionaire father, and Holly has been disowned by the grandfather who raised her and Kit. Now stories have started appearing in a London tabloid, reporting that Bobby’s horse training business is in financial trouble, and that his father has refused to help. Tradesmen are starting to demand payment, and the stories could become a self-fulfilling prophecy. As Kit begins to investigate the source of these stories, he comes under attack not only by mysterious thugs, but occasionally by Bobby himself, because old feuds die hard, and overcoming a lifetime’s social conditioning is no easy matter.

The plot is rather convoluted, but Francis’ prose and storytelling are like a fine race horse, perfectly coordinated and rippling with muscle under the skin. I enjoyed Break In very much, and recommend it. Cautions for pre-marital sex and relatively mild bad language.

The Girl Who Cried Wolf, by Robert Ferrigno

A lot of people have praised Robert Ferrigno’s Assassin books to me, but I’ve always resisted reading them. The books are (if you haven’t heard of them) set in a near future in which Islam has become dominant in the United States. Since I figure there’s a good chance this will actually happen in my lifetime, I see no reason to experience it sooner than necessary, even vicariously.

But when the non-Assassin book The Girl Who Cried Wolf (available as an e-book only) showed up for three bucks for Kindle, I thought I’d give it a chance. Maybe I’d be so impressed I’d be motivated to tackle Ferrigno’s magnum opus.

Alas, I don’t think that will happen. I find myself in a strange position here. I have no serious criticisms to make of the book. The writing is professional, the characters interesting, the plot full of suspense. And yet I didn’t enjoy it much, and was glad to be done with it.

The plot is simple on the surface. A group of eco-terrorists decide to kidnap attorney Remy Brandt, daughter of an investment tycoon. The plan calls for one of them to murder Remy’s boyfriend, a policeman named Mack Armitage, but he fails in that, only the first in a series of errors that will prove fatal in the end.

Reviews gave me the impression that this book would be lighter than it is, that there’d be a sort of “Ransom of Red Chief” quality to it. There’s some of that, but I never found it very amusing or satisfying. Mack is an adequate hero, but of course he can’t be allowed to be too heroic, because just rescuing Remy would be unfashionably patriarchal.

Author Ferrigno has a reputation as “the most un-PC author in America,” but I didn’t see much of that here. The eco-terrorists are depicted as being in the wrong, but most of them are well-meaning and merely the dupes of masterminds whose motives have nothing to do with Mother Earth. The vilest person in the story is someone every leftist will be happy to hate. So I didn’t see much here that was subversive of mainstream prejudices.

And when it comes down to it, I guess I just don’t like stories about hostages and prisoners. That’s purely a personal reaction, based on my own history. You may like The Girl Who Cried Wolf more than I did.

Let Christ Pay Your Sin: Brideshead Revisited

“Praise the grace whose threats alarmed thee,

Roused thee from thy fatal ease.”

These words from the old Key/Wilcox hymn adequately summarize the theme of Brideshead Revisited. Perhaps they even spoil the plot a bit, but this isn’t a plot-driven story. It’s relationship-driven—maybe faith-driven. Waugh draws out the fatal ease of his characters so that we can see what God’s grace does to them in the end.

Madresfield House

(Madresfield Court, the home of the Lygon family, Worcestershire.)

The narrator, Charles Ryder, is in the British army when the book opens. His unit relocates to the Bridehead estate, which provokes the sad memories of the rest of the novel. They don’t seem sad at first. When Charles begins his studies at Oxford, he meets Sebastian Flyte, a very friendly young man whose eccentricities seem only to endear him to almost everyone near him, especially Charles, who falls in love with him. Sebastian, a year ahead of Charles, has collected a handful of homosexually inclined friends, the worst of whom is Anthony Blanche.

While Blanche is brazenly queer (I can’t recall that he described himself with that term, but I’m confident he would have approved of it), the others are not, and Ryder suggests to his readers that we are sufficiently worldly enough to understand these relationships without delving into them. Much later in the book, he describes a monk as being naïve to not see the nature of companionship Sebastian held with a young German loaf, but all of this is subtle, perhaps because homosexuality was against the law. (Here’s a remarkable article on the autobiographical nature of Waugh’s novel, which mentions high society’s attitude on sexual matters.)

What isn’t subtle is the Catholicism of Lady Marchmain, Sebastian’s mother. The entire Flyte/Brideshead family is at least nominally Catholic. Half the family hates it; the other half embraces it. Sebastian hates his mother apparently for her ardent faith. In fact, she seems to be a representation of the Catholic Church as a whole, certainly flawed but honest and devout. You might see each of the faithful Catholics of the Flyte family as different categories of the church: Lady Marchmain representing the institution, Brideshead, the elder brother, representing typical laity, and Cordelia, the younger sister, representing the missionary. Each of them is disliked to some degree. Cordelia gives us a reason on page 221 of my edition:

“[Lady Marchmain] was saintly, but she wasn’t a saint. No one could really hate a saint, could they? They can’t really hate God either. When they want to hate Him, and His saints they have to find something like themselves and pretend it’s God and hate that.”

So some of the characters distain God, regardless what they say of Him, and Waugh intends to show us how God responds. He shows us unmerited favor and lifelong mercy. Christ ignored the grief and insult of our sin, taking it to the cross for atonement once for all. Christ offers us grace, having paid for our hatred personally. Without Him, we live in sin. Waugh draws out a picture of this with one character (pg 287):

“Living with sin, with sin, by sin, for sin, every hour, every day, year in, year out. Waking up with sin in the morning, seeing the curtains drawn on sin, bathing it, dressing it, clipping diamonds to it, feeding it, showing it round, giving it a good time…”

Without Christ, we have our sin, no matter how we dress it up. If we do not let Him pay for it, we will. If we do not end our lives as holy (“no one is ever holy without suffering”), we will end them in torment, having succumbed to life’s fatal ease.

The Ian Fleming Files: Operation Armada, by Damian Stevenson

I thought I’d give this one a try because the Kindle price was only ninety-nine cents, and the concept was so promising that I wanted it to be good.

Sadly, a good concept does not a good novel make. Good writing is also required. Some of the writing in The Ian Fleming Files: Operation Armada is good enough, but the author’s pallet is limited, and his reach exceeds his grasp.

Here’s the concept: Most of us know that Ian Fleming, author of the James Bond novels, was himself a British agent during World War II, and much of the procedures he describes were based on his experience. Certain characters in the fictional stories are also based on real people.

Damian Stevenson makes the creative jump of presenting Fleming as the original Bond, and telling a story of one of his assignments as if he were writing a Bond script. Continue reading The Ian Fleming Files: Operation Armada, by Damian Stevenson →

The war over the Game

The controversy over Andrew Klavan’s praise for Game of Thrones rumbles on, and I follow it with the fascination of a reality show fan, except for wishing both sides well.
A few days back I linked to Klavan’s column at PJ Media, “Eyes Wide Shut: Christians Against Art.” In the course of an argument – with which I generally agree – that Christians need to produce art that seriously addresses the real world, rather than some PG world we’d like to believe in, he mentions his own fondness for the HBO series, “Game of Thrones,” seeing it, apparently, as the sort of thing we ought to be trying to produce ourselves (though I’m sure he wouldn’t insist on including all the skin). In my own response, I expressed my own deep disillusionment with “Game” author George R. R. Martin’s books, a disillusionment which has prevented me from watching a single episode.
On Monday Dave Swindle, another PJ Media writer, responded to Klavan’s article in a similar vein:

You’ve known me since not long after I started editing full time. I was 25 and was only a defense hawk and fiscal conservative but still “socially liberal.” Since then, for a variety of reasons (particularly my return to belief in God), I’ve come further in my ideological shift. I’m genuinely embarrassed by some of the socially conservative positions I find myself now arguing. Never in a million years did I foresee myself as the type that would ever side with those cautioning against pornography’s downsides and the “shocking” content in art. You’ve talked in the past about how you disagree with our mutual friend Ben Shapiro about his Orthodox Judaism-inspired approach to culture and sex. I used to also — and I still disagree with Ben from time to time on issues and tactics (particularly on gay marriage. This is a theological difference deriving from an interpretation of scripture. He and I will just have to keep arguing about it). But on the fundamental issue, the social conservatism he explicates from his traditional reading of the Torah is correct: sex is sacred. It’s impossible to have “casual sex” with someone — every sexual act is transformative. I came to this understanding differently than him, though, through first-hand experience and painful mistakes.

Continue reading The war over the Game →

Eleventh Century Vox

Vox Day of Vox Popoli reviews Hailstone Mountain, mostly positively. (I get the impression he’s a tough critic):

Creativity: 4 of 5. Based on it is on a history with which most readers are much less familiar than they tend to think, Hailstone Mountain is considerably more creative than the average fantasy novel. I liked how Walker mimicked the way in which saga plots tend to advance and turn abruptly, without much in the way of warning. It’s a fascinating blend of old and new, and will be a pleasure for anyone tired of the formulaic plots and predictable characters that presently infest so much of modern fantasy. Jonathan Moeller has remarked how epublishing has broadened the scope of fantasy fiction, and Hailstone Mountain is an excellent example of this phenomenon.

Grave Passage, by William Doonan

When you follow free and discount e-book blogs, you learn to have low expectations. Generally the free or low-priced books you get are worth the price (I leave it to others to make such judgments on my own e-books). But now and then you discover a gem. Grave Passage by William Doonan is, all things considered, a breath of fresh air, a well-written, often funny story with a genuinely original and engaging hero/narrator.

Henry Grave is 84 years old, a retired archaeologist and one-time World War II prisoner of war. Somehow (it’s never quite explained) he got himself into a post-retirement career as an investigator for a cruise line. In that capacity he’s helicoptered onto the deck of the Contessa Voyager one night, to look into the death of one of the cruise lecturers, an FBI agent who recently announced he’d solved a famous murder and had promised to name the killer on this voyage.

Henry’s method of investigation is to settle into the routine of the cruise, enjoy the buffets, drink to excess, schmooze with the passengers, and generally project the image of a harmless, semi-senile old man. It’s hard to tell sometimes whether he’s actually faking all this – some of his lapses of memory seem genuine, and his frequent unplanned naps suggest he might want to talk to his doctor about a C-Pap machine. But the wheels are always turning behind his bumbling, buffoonish façade, and he has some surprises in store for the murderers – as well as for the readers.

I thoroughly enjoyed Grave Passage. Christian readers will not be comfortable with Henry’s heavy drinking or his sexual recreations (he flirts with any woman he likes, but reserves his actual Viagra tablets for a woman of appropriate age), but these elements are no more prominent here than in many other mysteries. Author Doonan writes good prose, creates believable, intriguing characters, and describes the cruising life authentically (as I can testify). Highly recommended.

In Sunlight and in Shadow, by Mark Helprin


In the perfection of her song, by the voice that sprang from her, speaking words as he had never heard them spoken, he now loved her as he had never known he could love. He might never see her again, and decades might pass, yet he would love her indelibly, catastrophically, and forever. If half a century later he were alive, he would remember this song as the moment in which all such things were settled and beyond which he could not go.

There’s a rumor about, colluded in by professors of literature, that literary works and plain storytelling exist in separate universes. A book can be one or the other, but not both. Mark Helprin , by means of his new novel In Sunlight and In Shadow, scoffs at this idea (probably with a Bronx cheer). Exquisitely and poetically written, this novel is also a compelling, nail-biting story of transcendent love, danger, and mortality.

The story begins in Manhattan in 1946 when we meet Harry Copeland, late of the 82nd Airborne, back from the war and trying to make peace with his memories and figure out who he wants to be. One day on the Staten Island Ferry he sees a beautiful girl and falls desperately in love with her. He meets her and learns her name is Catherine Hale. She is a singer, in rehearsal for a Broadway musical.

There are complications. She’s engaged to another man. He’s Jewish; she comes from a WASP family. He’s the owner of a failing leather goods company; she’s the heir to some of the oldest money in America.

They overcome these obstacles without compromising their integrity. But their very success brings forces into action opposing them. All their courage and faith will be required in the new, peacetime battle, and not a metaphorical one, that will sweep them up. Continue reading In Sunlight and in Shadow, by Mark Helprin →

How to Talk to Girls at Parties, by Neil Gaiman

I just finished reading How to Talk to Girls at Parties, by Neil Gaiman, which is available absolutely free for Kindle here. It’s actually a short story, presented along with a free preview of Gaiman’s next novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

The title obviously interested me from the git-go (though it didn’t actually help in that department), but the story in itself is a pretty clever one, combining a sensitive portrayal of teenage shyness and angst with a space alien story. I think saying anything more would spoil it. Pretty good, and hey, it’s free.