‘Atlantic Crossing,’ translator’s reaction

Although I’d already seen the first two episodes of “Atlantic Crossing,” I wasn’t about to miss the big premiere on PBS Sunday night. I found a friend who was willing to have me over to watch with his girlfriend on his big TV (I even got a free meal out of it).

As I told you before, it was as good as I remembered. Well acted (I’m highly impressed with Kyle Maclachlan’s performance as FDR. He really nails the character), nail-bitingly dramatic, and beautiful to watch. Just a class production all the way.

I know this script intimately. Not as a writer would – as I keep telling people, I had zero creative input – but as someone who helped translate through multiple revisions. I know where certain minor cuts were made to tighten things up. I remember how I imagined the scenes when I worked on them, and in every case they’re more spacious on film (or on tape, or however it’s done nowadays). And I had the opportunity to lecture my fellow viewers about Norwegian history, and the unspoken dynamics behind the historical events.

Based on the reactions I’ve seen on Facebook, American readers liked the show very much indeed. I will say nothing about historical authenticity here, or anywhere. That’s not for me to discuss. I’ll only say that this is a miniseries, and that dramatic form involves certain iron demands. You’ve got to have a full dramatic arc for each of the eight episodes, and that involves massaging actual events to some extent. I think “Atlantic Crossing” ought to be evaluated as a work of art. And on that level it succeeds brilliantly. There ought to be awards.

If you missed Episode One, you should be able to stream it here.

Dune: Atreides Triumphant

{Reading Dune for the first time] Update 5: Dune ends in a sudden halt. I suppose everything is wrapped up neatly enough, but there’s no page or two about everyone settling into a new life or looking forward to a new day. Nothing about drawing Rose closer, setting Elanor on your lap, and saying, “Well, I’m back.” It ends with Paul lowering the boom on his enemies, making demands, and done. Maybe the next book picks up immediately, but that brings me to main thing I intend to say in this post–pacing.

(By the way, how do you pronounce Harkonnen? I know how the 1984 movie says it, but I’m more comfortable putting the emphasis on the first syllable. Emphasizing the second syllable strikes me as thoughtlessly American. Herbert frequently agreed with me when he said the name, so I’ve read, but he may have said it the other way too.)

Book 1: Dune builds at an appropriately slow pace to strong climax. Book 2: Maud’Dib felt slow as I read the first few pages, but I may have been projecting. After Paul and Jessica collect themselves on the heels of the main event in book 1, the story kicks back into gear. This section has the one chapter I was tempted to skip. It focuses primarily on the death of an important figure, so it’s good to give such an event proper weight. But it’s also like reading appendix 1 on planet ecology and the visionary who intended to change Arrakis. Too much lecturing. Book 3: The Prophet picks up a few years after the end of the previous section and tells a quick story of longer period of time.

Dune has a lot of fighting, but Herbert doesn’t focus on it. The fights we see are the personal ones. He skips over taking village strongholds, defending hideouts from imperial soldiers, and knocking patrol ships out of the sky. Instead we get an explanation of how the tough, imperial troops are losing 3-1 against rebels, who are supposed to be scattered ruffians, to the disgusting Baron Harkonnen, who had assumed any fighting had already been handled. That’s just one example of how the story tells us where the conflict lies ahead in one chapter and how it’s behind them in the next.

Herbert writes well. He doesn’t try to make irrelevant scenes appealing. He’s willing to wrap them up off camera. I do wish he would have refrained from constantly referring to training. The reader has plenty of time to understand the deep, lengthy training Paul and Jessica have endured. Do we have to mention it every time they try not to blow a gasket?

Photo by Juli Kosolapova on Unsplash

‘Mind Games, by Dan Willis

Dan Willis’s Alex Lockerby series of urban fantasy/mysteries grows more intriguing as one reads on. The fourth installment is Mind Games, in which many puzzles are solved and puzzlier ones appear.

Alex operates as a runewright/private eye in a 1930s New York where magic is the main technology. In Mind Games, a rich couple ask him to find their daughter, who has gone missing. Alex uses a finding rune to locate her in a nightclub, but the owner says she’s with him and they’re going to be married. The girl agrees that’s true, so Alex leaves them alone. But the next day she calls the police for rescue.

There’s also a young man who asks Alex to prove his wife didn’t murder her lover. In fact, he says, his wife didn’t even know the man she was arrested for shooting to death. Alex assumes he’s just in denial, but in fact there’s no evidence she even knew the guy. So why would she kill him?

Meanwhile, a number of the lower-level runewrights who operate from street carts have started working for a company that’s mass-producing runes in a way Alex had always assumed impossible. And homeless people are disappearing altogether.

And then there’s the little problem that Alex gave up the majority of his life force while saving the city, a few adventures back. His energy clock is running down, and his friend and mentor Iggy is working feverishly to create a life-extension rune for him.

As Alex Lockerby’s world develops over the course of the books, it grows increasingly interesting. I especially like the chemistry between Alex and Sorsha Kincaid, New York’s foremost sorceress. She’s beautiful, rich, highly dangerous, and a denizen of the highest society, while Alex is a lowly P.I. But there are sparks between them, and she’s learning to respect him. You can’t help wondering what comes next.

The prose is pretty ordinary, but the storytelling and world-building are excellent. And the characters aren’t bad. I’m enjoying the ongoing series.

‘Clean Kill,’ by C. E. Nelson

The second of the Trask Brothers murder mysteries, set in Minnesota, is Clean Kill. The first book centered more on David Trask, sheriff of Lake County in northern MN. This time we spend a bit more time with his twin brother Don, a big shot with the state’s Bureau of Criminal Apprehension.

A band on tour borrows a tour bus, only to notice a foul smell coming from one of the luggage compartments. Inside they find a ripe corpse, which has – oddly – been cleaned with bleach, and had its finger- and toenails removed. Soon similar bodies, all of drug addicts, start showing up around Two Harbors, where David lives, and so the cop brothers will have to join forces. Meanwhile, Don is growing curious about a prominent, highly connected man who seems to be connected to all this, and his bosses are telling him to back off. Which only makes him more suspicious.

Since John Sandford has taken Lucas Davenport national, there seems to be an opening for a new fictional Minnesota super-cop. Or cops. I’m not sure the Trask brothers quite fill that vacancy yet, but they’re not bad. My main complaints were that the author seemed ignorant of Chinese buffets (he seems to think you pay after eating), and the addition of a new homosexual character, one assumes in order to fill some quota. But the character isn’t all that annoying, and isn’t on stage too much, so I’ll put up with it for now.

‘Atlantic Crossing’ 2nd chance

If, in spite of all my exhortations and horn blowing, you somehow missed the premiere of the miniseries ‘Atlantic Crossing’ (which I helped translate; I probably haven’t mentioned that) Sunday evening, you can stream the episode here.

It’s awesome. And I’m only partly responsible.

‘The Long Chain,’ by Dan Willis

In an alternate-universe New York City, where they mostly have magic instead of science, Alex Lockerby is a runewright/private detective. In an earlier adventure, Alex saved the city by transporting the floating castle of Sorsha Kincaid, one its foremost sorceresses, into the Atlantic. This succeeded, but left him with snow-white hair and only a few months left to live. Thanks to a restorative potion he takes several times a day, he’s able to still function as a runewright, but he’s well aware of time running out.

In The Long Chain, Number 3 in the series, a Nobel-prize winning chemist disappears, and his daughter hires Alex to find him. He does, but the old man has been injured and has lost his memory. Meanwhile a number of prominent alchemists have disappeared, and Alex is concerned for the safety of one of those remaining, the mother of his new girlfriend. However, Sorsha the Sorceress wants Alex to use his “finding rune” to identify the source of a mysterious, unnatural fog that has blanketed the city for weeks and seems to be growing worse day by day.

As you’ve probably noted, the plot of The Long Chain is a complicated one, but I was impressed with the way author Dan Willis tied it all together. And one of the mysteries ended in a resolution that was at once surprising and poignant.

The writing could be better, but I’m enjoying the storytelling in this Arcane series.

‘Near the Cross’

Today is Good Friday. One of my favorite songs about the Cross of Christ is “Near the Cross,” lyrics by Fanny Crosby. My old musical group used to sing this in harmony. I looked for a worthy arrangement to post, and this was the one I found that pleased me best. Done by three sisters of whom I know nothing at all. They’re not as good as my buddies and I were, but it will do.

This Sunday: ‘Atlantic Crossing’

I trust you’ll be going to church this Sunday. In the evening, after the celebration and the feast, you’ll have the opportunity — 9:00 Eastern, 8:00 Central, etc. — to watch “Atlantic Crossing,” a superior miniseries I helped translate, on PBS Masterpiece. PBS has an interesting intro video, which I tried to embed, but I can’t make it work. So here’s the link.

One of the people you’ll see on the video is Alexander Eik, one of the co-writers. The other co-writer is Linda May Kallestein, my original film translation boss. But she’s shy.

‘The Color of Blood,’ by Keith Yocum

For a while there, I thought I’d found a new series to follow passionately. I liked the first half of Keith Yocum’s The Color of Blood very much. But it faded in the stretch for this reader.

Dennis Cunningham is an investigator for the CIA. He’s not an agent; he investigates crimes committed against, or by, Agency operatives. His strength is interrogation, his chief method bullying. He offends people, gets them angry, and they lower their defenses and unload the truth. He has a high clearance rate, but very few friends, at Langley or anywhere else.

He’s just back from compassionate leave, after a breakdown following the death of his wife. To ease him back into the job, he’s assigned to look into the disappearance of an agent in Australia. Basically he’s just supposed to check somebody else’s work; no big deal.

But when he gets to Australia, (where he’s required by law to be accompanied by a local police officer, who turns out to be a woman who hates him on sight), he begins to suspect that the missing agent is not dead at all. He also grows curious about what that agent had been investigating. And that leads him down paths of inquiry leading to danger, both from bad guys and the unforgiving Australian outback. Along the way, he and his Australian cop escort will begin to see each other in a new way.

For reasons that won’t be hard to guess, I generally like stories about “difficult” male heroes, your Monk/House/Holmes types. I like them even better, for even more obvious reasons, when they get paired up with attractive women. So this story gratified me very much for about the first half.

But then it got out of hand (from my perspective). Dennis’s obsessive risk-taking abruptly ended my identification with him. Unsurprising perils led to not unexpected rescues. Also, there was what I perceived (I could be wrong) as a political message that seemed to me extreme.

So I won’t be continuing with this series. It was fun for a while, though. You might like it better.

‘The Other Emily,’ by Dean Koontz

She was in that highest rank of beauties that inspired stupid men to commit foolish acts and made wiser men despair for their inadequacies.

One storytelling element I like very much is the book that opens with an impossibility. Dean Koontz’s latest novel, The Other Emily, is such a book. I wasn’t entirely satisfied with all of it, but it led me a merry chase up to the end.

David Thorne is a bestselling author, and very wealthy. But he lives a distanced life, ever since the loss of his girlfriend Emily. She disappeared on a California highway one rainy night ten years ago, when her car broke down. She is assumed to be one of the victims of a serial killer active at the time. David actually pays the man to visit him periodically in prison, in the hope of gleaning a clue to Emily’s fate. He’s grieving, of course, but also racked with guilt, because he should have been with her that night.

Then one evening, in a bar in Newport Beach, he spies a woman who looks exactly like Emily. Not similar to her, but precisely like her in every detail. She even talks like Emily, and seems to know things only she would know. Except that she’s the age Emily was when she disappeared, not the age she’d be today.

David plunges into a passionate affair with this mysterious woman, meanwhile embarking on an obsessive investigation to discover who she really is, where she comes from, and what she’s here for. The secret, when he learns it, will be almost unbelievable and very likely deadly.

I wasn’t entirely happy with the conclusion of The Other Emily. I thought it contrived and implausible, even on science fiction/horror terms. However, the process of reading the book provided a persistent sense of dread all along its length, and I found that very stimulating.

Cautions for language and disturbing subject matter.