Sci-Fi and Man’s Abolition

I don’t remember when I read Lewis’s The Abolition of Man, but I remember agreeing with all of it.

Sam Edgin reviews the book’s influence on sci-fi film and literature in the essay collection Science Fiction and the Abolition of Man

The backbone of much of the science fiction we love are the questions Lewis asked: What do we do when technology gives us such powers that we are no longer able to identify that which is human? Or, even worse, at what point do we begin actively denying humanity around us for our own comfort or gain?

‘Angels in the Moonlight,’ by Caimh McDonnell

Angels in the Moonlight

I suspect author Caimh McDonnell is having us on.

He’s producing three books called the Dublin Trilogy. I’ve reviewed the first two already (loved the first, thought the second was OK). Now, instead of releasing the third book like a decent citizen, he’s come out with a prequel.

I’d be miffed if it weren’t so bloody good.

Angels in the Moonlight is set in Dublin in the fall of 1999, when the whole world is worrying about the Millennium. Detective Sergeant Bunny McGarry (whom we know from the previous books) is living life his own way, dividing his energies between his police work and the schoolboy hurling team he coaches. He worries about his partner and friend, “Gringo” Spain, who’s feeling the pressures of a failing marriage and a gambling habit.

They’re assigned to a task force devoted to bringing down a gang that runs a particular housing project. It started out kind of noble, when honest citizens, frustrated by the impotence of the police, took matters into their own hands and drove the drug dealers out.

But the original leader is dying, and his son is taking over. That son is highly intelligent and possesses formidable fighting skills, being a veteran of the SAS. But he has a different attitude from his dad, and intends to get into the drug business himself. As he masterminds and carries out a string of “Robin Hood” style operations against banks and wealthy businesses, he is not only always two steps ahead of the police, but he finds ways to make them look foolish. It’s fun until people start getting hurt. And killed.

Meanwhile Bunny is falling in love with an American jazz singer who has extremely dark secrets. She lives in a house of very unconventional nuns. Bunny would die for her – and may have to. He will certainly bend the law.

Angels in the Moonlight is funny and tragic. It’s profane and obscene and full of off-color jokes. But I enjoyed every page. This is a brilliant, hilarious, touching, and moving book. Highly recommended, if you can handle its earthy qualities.

‘The Kidney Donor,’ by P. F. Ford

The Kidney Donor

I expect you’re tired of my reviews of P. F. Ford’s Dave Slater novels, but that’s what I read last, and I don’t have any deathless thoughts about Labor Day to share (I labored today, for the record). I promise the next one will be from another author.

In The Kidney Donor, we find our hero Dave Slater freshly separated from the Tinton (England) police force and freshly returned from a vacation in Thailand. He and his former partner, Norman Norman, are thinking about starting a private investigation agency. Norman takes him to meet a vicar and his wife, who run a soup kitchen out of their church. When one of the homeless men they care for is killed in a dumpster fire, while sleeping in another homeless man’s usual place, they wonder why their former police colleagues are taking so little interest in the death. When more deaths follow, they grow even more suspicious. Their pro bono investigation uncovers organized crime connections, police malfeasance, and a very old grudge.

I’m amused by the fact that I enjoy these books so well. The writing can be very uneven. Author Ford has a particular problem developing his characters. In one scene here a tough old gangster carelessly speaks to Dave and Norman about a very personal tragedy – something a hard man like that would never mention to cops (or ex-cops) in real life.

But I have fun with the Dave Slater books. They’re light and positive in tone. I recommend them on that basis, with cautions mostly for language.

Beautiful Home Libraries

You’ve likely seen photos of some of these libraries before. At least, I have, and I don’t know how they retrieve books from the three-story shelving in Haus W or some of the others pictured here.

via GIPHY

Destroy My Unfinished Works

“There goes the browsing history.”

On August 25, Rob Wilkins, friend of late author Terry Pratchett and manager of the author’s estate, followed his friend’s posthumous directions by putting the hard drive with Pratchett’s unfinished docs under a steamroller.

Stuart Kelly considers whether such wishes should be honored. For instance, Virgil asked for the Aeneid to be burned after his death, and the king refused to allow it (via Prufrock News).

One could no doubt elaborate on the “broken” hexameters of the poem – something I was taught during schoolboy Latin – but the question that interests me is whether having an imperfect Aeneid is better than having no Aeneid at all. Of course, not having it would mean not knowing what we might have had; but there must have been an ethical tangle when Rufus and Tucca went against what they knew the author had wanted.

‘No Moon to Pray To,’ by Jerry Guern

Everyone talks to me with Your voice, Enik thought. Everyone but You. Every time I’ve ever set out to serve You, it’s all turned out wrong. All my life I’ve begged You to tell me, to show me what You want. Nothing else. Why did You make me Your knight and then refuse to command me?

It’s a rare pleasure to discover a Christian fantasy I can really recommend. It’s even rarer (unprecedented, I’m pretty sure) to find a vampire story I can recommend. No Moon to Pray To, by Jerry Guern, impressed me very much.

Father Michael is a member of an ancient Church order, a secret fighting order devoted to hunting vampires. The order is led by a strange old bishop who has a secret – a secret Michael shares, though he doesn’t know it yet.

Enik is an old French knight, a former crusader. Once a hero, he went home disgraced. Now he lives in self-imposed poverty in his castle, devoted to one thing only, the protection of the peasants in his care. Right now he has to protect them from an attack by a nest of vampires.

Fate, or the hand of God, will throw them together. But that will only make things more complicated.

One of my chief problems with run of the mill Christian fiction is a lack of ambiguity. Good and evil tend to be pretty obvious, making choices easy for the characters, and making the stories irrelevant to actual human experience. It also makes them boring. Author Guern is not guilty of this sin. No Moon to Pray To is chock full of ambiguity. The best of his characters are always in doubt about God’s will, and his worst characters (even some of the vampires) have their admirable moments. Sometimes you wonder whom to root for.

The characters were well-drawn. The dialogue was generally good. The prose was good, with a few slips. I think there may have been some factual errors (Guern doesn’t seem to know how a mail shirt is taken off), but overall I’ve got no real complaints.

I can heartily recommend No Moon to Pray To. In fact, I’ll go so far (if this actually constitutes praise) as to say that if you enjoy my novels, you’ll probably enjoy this one too.

Cautions for adult themes, violence, and gore.

Small talk

It’s one of those nights when I don’t have anything worth writing. Whatever follows is guaranteed, certified piffle.

I did read another book, but it’s one in a series I’ve been following and reviewing for a while. You already know what I have to say about these books. A Skeleton in the Closet is the seventh in P. F. Ford’s Dave Slater series, about a small town detective in England. What can I say? Like the others, it’s lightweight but likeable. I estimate the Dave Slater books at about the intellectual level of a TV series – an American TV series. Which means they’re entertaining, but they won’t change your life. In this one, a colleague dies in an explosion, and Dave must delve into this person’s personal life, which turns out to have been full of secrets. At the same time, he’s under pressure from what in America we’d call Internal Affairs. In all contemporary fiction series, there’s a moment or two – or several – when certain cultural boxes must be ticked, in order to satisfy the commissars. This is a story where author Ford ticks off one of them. Upbeat and cheerful, good entertainment even with the social freight.

A Skeleton in the Closet

Classes begin at school next week, and I’m in the final throes of setting up the bookstore for fall textbook sales. Nearly done now. Tomorrow should finish it. My main thought as I survey the shelves of required textbooks is, “I ordered too many. I always do. Will the sales of books previously in stock cover the loss?”

God bless instructors who assign books we already have plenty of.

On the writing front, I’ve found my way at last after a long stretch wandering without a map. I feel keenly the fact that a few faithful readers have been waiting patiently for this book for years. All I can say is, I’m bringing it as fast as I can.

Product review: Fire 7, 7th generation

Fire 7

As I’ve been chronicling here for years, I’m a Kindle addict, thanks to the devious machinations of Hunter Baker, who gave me my first hit. A while back I transitioned to the Kindle Fire, which is now called the Fire Tablet. I recently acquired the latest (7th generation) Fire 7, and my review reads as follows.

I’d grown a little frustrated with my previous Fire, the 4th generation of the 7. I found it slow, and it had developed a habit of hanging “fire” (Get it? Fire?). So I ordered the 7th generation model (double 7s. Has to be lucky). (Why don’t I get an 8 with the 8-inch screen? Because the 7 fits neatly into my coat pockets in the winter. This matters to me.) I even sprang for the model with 16 GB storage capacity. All in all, I’m pleased with it.

I immediately noticed that this model was perceptibly lighter than my previous Fire. It’s a tad longer and narrower when you hold it in portrait position (can’t let those screen protectors or protective covers be interchangeable, can we?). The screen is bright and the definition pretty high, but no noticeable difference from my last one. It’s faster and streams movies without a problem so far (pausing to load was another frustration with my last Fire). A few minor changes have been made in the Kindle reader app (which have probably shown up in earlier Fires as well, I imagine), and I think it’s a little more intuitive.

My main concern was with the speaker. I say speaker rather than “speakers,” because this new Kindle 7 has only one. It’s mono. You get stereo when you use earphones, though. Since I mainly want stereo when I’m watching videos, and since I always use earphones when I watch videos, it’s not a big problem for me.

There are far more powerful tablets out there than the Fire. But if you primarily use it as a reader and video viewer, like me, it’s not a bad device for the money. I’m happy I upgraded.

Update: I meant to mention the battery. Battery life on the Fire 7 is noticeably longer than on my last Fire.

Netflix review: ‘Norsemen’

Norsemen

I really wanted to like Norsemen, a Viking Age comedy produced by the Norwegian NRK network. The series is filmed at the reconstructed Viking farm at Bukkøy, which is associated with the North Way Interpretational Center at Avaldsnes, Karmøy, Norway. Avaldsnes is the parish where my great-grandfather Walker was born and baptized. I’ve been to the Viking Farm, so when I watch this show I’m looking at a familiar place.

In the first episode, a shipload of Viking raiders under the command of Chieftain Olav return to their home in Norway. Olav’s brother, Orm, has been in charge in his absence, and he’s so bad at it that old men are reduced to jumping off a cliff to reduce the number of mouths to feed. Orm’s wife, Frøya, was along on the raid as a warrior, while Orm himself is pretty much useless with weapons. She despises him. Olav’s chief warrior is named Arvid. Olav arranges for Arvid to marry a widow – or rather, she becomes a widow after he’s killed her husband. But they find themselves incompatible. Meanwhile, the chief slave, Kark (saga fans will recognize that classical reference), gives instruction to the newest slave, Rufus of Rome, a professional actor who seems to think he’s on a pleasure cruise and keeps complaining about the accommodations.

What you’ve got here, essentially, is the History Channel’s Vikings series, crossed with The Office. The costumes and hair are intentionally similar to those on the Vikings show (which is to say, even worse. Black leather, which real Vikings never had, abounds). But the dialogue is straight out of The Office, with people talking in 21st century jargon. That dialogue concerns a lot of killing, which is played for laughs, and it’s also very smutty. The program was filmed in both Norwegian and English, so what you see on Netflix is neither dubbed nor subtitled.

I watched three episodes. The first two, which mostly introduced us to the characters, seemed to me kind of rudderless. But the plot began functioning at the end of Episode Two, and I went on to watch the third one. I could probably continue, because the story got more interesting once I detected a plot, and realized that the characters I’d felt sorry for were pretty much as awful as the characters I’d hated. What it boils down to is that this is one of those shows about appalling people whom I don’t care about at all. And considering the level of profanity (very, very) black humor, and casual violence, plus a little nudity, I don’t think I’ll continue with it. And I don’t recommend it to our readers.

‘Brass in Pocket,’ by Stephen Puleston

Brass in Pocket

The idea of an obsessive-compulsive detective is not a new one. Most of us are familiar with the American TV series, “Monk.” The difference with Stephen Puleston’s North Wales detective, Inspector Ian Drake, is that Drake’s OCD isn’t played for laughs. His affliction puts a genuine strain on his relationships, his career, and his personal safety.

In Brass in Pocket, Inspector Drake is called to a crime scene where two policemen have been murdered – with a crossbow. An array of traffic cones has been arranged by their car, forming the number “4”. And then the killer sends the police a message, consisting of the lyrics of a 1970s rock song.

Struggling with lack of sleep and his need to carry out his personal, calming rituals, Inspector Drake, with his team, follows every lead they can find to stop a killer who’s constantly a jump ahead of them, as the numbers count down and the rock lyrics keep coming in. The solution, when they find it, is almost unthinkable.

The OCD element in the book is intriguing, but it wasn’t enough to make it work for me. Drake and the other characters just didn’t come alive. Physical descriptions were rare, and the players were hard to tell apart. The suspects completely blended into one another, for this reader.

My perceptions may be skewed, however. It’s possible that, since I have certain obsessive characteristics myself, I just found Drake’s character too close to home, and reacted against it. But I found the plot hard to keep track of, and the story undistinguished.

So I can’t recommend it. Your kilometerage may vary.