Category Archives: Fiction

Cry Unto Heaven, by Darwin Garrison

Full disclosure: Darwin Garrison is a friend of mine. But even adjusting for my prejudice, I think Cry Unto Heaven is a good, satisfying story.

In a sort of post-apocalyptic world (a very special kind of post-apocalyptic world) a young girl named Renn, scavenging for food, is rescued from a rapist by a man named Zeke who reminds her of an angel. He has seemingly supernatural powers, and he’s on a mission to answer prayers, and to frustrate the plans of his own brother, who has committed great crimes and wants to commit worse.

Cry Unto Heaven is a quick read, with good characters, a tight narrative, and theological resonance (no preaching). I enjoyed it a lot, and it’ll only cost you a buck. Recommended.

Top 10 Believers

Author Alex Preston picks ten believers from literary novels. He observes, “Quiet, placid faith fails to stir us. It’s the dark night of the soul that we want in our fiction, the adolescent torment of Salinger’s Franny or the guilt-ravaged Bendrix coming reluctantly to God in The End of the Affair.” (via Books, Inq. and Dave Lull)

The Well of the Unicorn, by Fletcher Pratt

A friend gave me a copy of The Well of the Unicorn by Fletcher Pratt, in order to reduce my appalling ignorance of some of the classics in my own genre. Having read it, I can see why it’s a (kind of a) classic, but also, I think, why it will probably never have a passionate following.

Fletcher Pratt, a prolific author who worked in many genres, as well as nonfiction, in the early part of the 20th Century, was a very fine author. The single thing that impressed me most about The Well of the Unicorn was the fact that he uses antique diction, but unlike most authors he actually uses it well. He very clearly understands the old words and idioms he employs, giving the whole story a flavor of authenticity.

On the other hand, that same diction can be an obstacle to the reader. I have a pretty extensive vocabulary, and I still found the prose a bit of a slog. Continue reading The Well of the Unicorn, by Fletcher Pratt →

This is me, in PJs.



Photo credit: Shin.

Over at PJ Media, where all the cool kids hang out, Kathy Shaidle rattled a few nacelles the other day by posting a piece called “Five Reasons Star Wars Actually Sucks.” Although the article was primarily an attack (not entirely unfair, either) on Star Wars fandom, she painted with a wide enough brush to step on a lot of general science fiction fans’ toes.

Successful, mature men do not play computer games, attend “cons,” and get excited about overrated science fiction movies from the 1970s.

Come on, all the conservative boys who’ve read this far:

Do you imagine Victor Davis Hanson is some kind of font of boring zombie lore?

Do you think Mark Steyn wastes his spare time playing World of Warcraft? (Trick question. Mark Steyn doesn’t have any spare time.)

No, these men have careers and families, here on planet earth.

So today Bryan Preston took up the gauntlet at The PJ Tatler, with a piece called “Why Star Wars and Sci-Fi Actually Don’t Suck.”

But here’s a little known fact about Star Wars: More than just being a series of two very good films, a pair of decent films and a pair of bad films, it bequeathed a whole industry. I’m not talking about the parallel marketing of the toys, many of which I used to own and now wish I still did because they would be worth a pile of money. I’m talking about Photoshop, and the broader digital imaging industry.

But here’s where it gets exciting and relevant and important. He goes on to say,

Now, if you hate sci-fi it follows that you’ll probably hate both of Lucas’ most successful franchises, but that doesn’t make them bad films and it doesn’t make sci-fi a bad genre. There’s a tendency around to try to force others to stop liking things that we don’t like. Well, I love sci-fi. When I’m not reading up on politics, I’m probably reading either legitimate history or sci-fi/fantasy. Good sci-fi, like good video games, gets your mind going. Lately I’ve been reading a lot of Jack McDevitt and Lars Walker. (Emphasis mine. lw) Both are fine writers with interesting minds who can create a universe and invest that universe with life. I don’t just read sci-fi/fantasy for the escape. I read it because, right now, it’s where the intellectual action is in fiction.

Thanks for the plug, Bryan.

A free plug, and a freebooter

“Lars Walker proves prescient,” says Grim of Grim’s Hall.

I knew he was going to say that.

He shares a passage from Troll Valley that he enjoyed. I’m fond of that one myself.

You too can enjoy this clairvoyant e-book. Kindle here. Nook here.

Not all Norwegians are dull and conventional.



I’ll admit I am, but clearly there are exceptions.

Take the case of Jarle Andhoy, who recently set off from New Zealand in his sailing yacht for a visit to Antarctica, in spite of a lack of the proper permits, and the presence of a repair man who was unfortunate enough to be on board when Jarle and his crew fled the harbor in order to avoid the authorities.

Mr Andhoy told the Norwegian public broadcasting service NRK that the presence on board of the unnamed New Zealander was not part of his plan, but was the result of “a hectic departure” from Auckland last week.

He said it was “a somewhat tricky situation” because the man did not have a passport or papers with him.

But Mr Andhoy insisted: “Everything is on schedule and the atmosphere is good on board.

“We are well prepared for what may befall us.”

It’s almost a fun story, except for the plight of the the repair man, who very likely had other plans, and the fact that three men died the last time Andhoy tried this.

But hey, what do I know? I’m dull and conventional.

Tip: Neatorama.

Dead Zero, by Stephen Hunter

There are various ways for authors to handle the problem of aging in popular series characters. Some characters never age at all. Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin were unaffected by the passage of decades. John D. MacDonald, as I recall, allowed his hero Travis McGee to age about one year for every three in real time. This lent an illusion of realism, while extending McGee’s effective life as an action hero as long as the author was likely to live. Perhaps the bravest course is to just let nature take its course.

That’s what Stephen Hunter is doing in his Bob Lee Swagger novels. Old Bob Lee, decorated Vietnam War Marine sniper, is getting long in the tooth. He’s moving slow, and feeling his aches and pains (especially the ones from his multiple wounds) pretty badly.

So Hunter has apparently decided to take the series in a new direction. And I salute him for it. In Dead Zero he’s produced an exciting and compelling action novel in which Bob Lee acts as the shrewd old detective, reader of human “landscape,” and spotter, but another, younger sniper has come on board to do the running and crawling and shooting. Continue reading Dead Zero, by Stephen Hunter →

It seems like a good day; what did I overlook?

All in all, a pretty good day.

I took half a vacation day, because I had to meet a service entity for my regularly scheduled furnace inspection. I also needed to pick up my snow blower, which, I had been informed, was now back in fighting trim.

I knew both these things would cost me money, but as it worked out, neither cost as much as I expected.

How often does that happen in this economy?

Also, two blog reviews of Troll Valley appeared.

The first was from Hunter Baker, author of The End of Secularism. He calls me “talented and wise,” so I’m pretty sure he got me mixed up with Walker Percy.

Also, a nice review from Betsy Lightfoot at This, That, and the Other Thing.

Thanks to both.

I think both reviews link to the Amazon page.

But I should remind you that, if you have a Nook, you can get it from Lulu at this address.

Have a good weekend.

Stolen Away, by Max Allan Collins


In the shadows of the reflecting fire, her face was lovely, but she looked tired, and sad—or anyway melancholy, which is the wealthy’s way of feeling sad.

I have a memory of the first time my parents ever mentioned the Lindbergh kidnapping. To them, it was almost like a tragedy in the family. Charles Lindbergh was not only a national hero, he was a Minnesota hero, a Swedish boy from Little Falls. My father, a frustrated aviator, idolized him.

Max Allan Collins’ Stolen Away is a fictionalized account of the investigation, starring his private eye character Nathan Heller (I said I’d come back to this series, and I have). It’s a long and convoluted book, because it was a long and convoluted investigation. Judging from the author’s overview of source materials at the end, it appears one could do worse than come to this book first, if one were in the market for a comprehensive account of the whole thing (always taking fictional elements into consideration, of course).

The story starts in Chicago in 1932, when young Nathan Heller, a police detective, sights a suspicious woman carrying a baby through the LaSalle Street railroad station. Because police all over the country have been keeping their eyes out for the missing Lindbergh baby, he follows her, which leads to a gunfight and the recovery of the kidnapped baby—of a bootlegger. Continue reading Stolen Away, by Max Allan Collins →

What the Night Knows, by Dean Koontz

I’m a fan of Dean Koontz, so when I say that I wasn’t entirely pleased with What the Night Knows, you must understand that I’m not saying it was a bad read, or that it bored me. It’s a professionally constructed story, with appealing characters and gripping terror. But there were things that disappointed me about it.

As in so many Koontz stories, the action is sparked by a bigger-than-life villain. This one is Alton Turner Blackwood, a gigantic, deformed sexual sadist who has an extra advantage—he’s dead. He can possess inanimate objects or people, and he uses them to commit horrific sex murders against entire families. He especially craves young, innocent females.

Years ago police detective John Calvino, then a teenaged boy, walked in on Blackwood just after he had murdered Calvino’s family. Calvino shot him to death. But somehow Blackwood’s evil spirit endures, and he is determined to recreate his last string of murders, on precisely the same timetable, finishing up with Calvino and his wife and three children. Continue reading What the Night Knows, by Dean Koontz →

Apparently I have hidden depths

Our friend Grim at the Grim’s Hall blog has the honor of posting the first blog review of Troll Valley. And what he has to say about it is extremely intriguing:

There is a wider lesson to her example.  A family home is like a broader human community in that it has rules that establish a way of life, and under that way of life a community is possible.  We see in the early chapters how the traditions of Norwegian families at Yuletide sustained a broad community through hard work.  It is at that feast that the mother first uses her power to force a change in the rules, in her interest and against the interests of others.  It is by forcing continual alterations of the rules of life that she destroys the community within the house, so that finally no one can live with her at all.

Each of these rules is meant to represent moral progress, but each of them destroys the living community in which human kindness is possible.  

Grim sees the book as a drama of modern ideas of societal reform in conflict with the old traditions, and traditional relationships, that actually bind society together.

I find this fascinating, because I honestly didn’t have that in mind when I wrote. I was thinking of politics vs. religion, not politics vs. tradition. But now that he mentions it, I can see that the lesson is there. What I did was try to represent factually the kind of changes that were going on in the first couple decades of the 20th Century, and the “lesson” grew kind of organically from the events.

This all pleases me immensely. I like being smarter than I intended.