AVATAR Film Review

Well, the special effects were nice.

Grade: 1.5/10

ELANTRIS by Brandon Sanderson

I made a deal with myself to check out new authors I'd previously held in contempt for their successes after liking Mirrored Heavens, and picked up Elantris, the first novel by Brandon Sanderson, on Friday. Over the weekend we got tons of snow where I live, and I was stuck in the house, so I sat with a bunch of dolls (for warmth) and read this thing. By the end, I was ready to go battle the elements alone, since if I was wrapped up in death's gentle embrace I'd never have to look at a page from this book ever again.

Okay, so it wasn't that bad, but I really didn't get much enjoyment from this book at all. It started off great, with a prologue that charmed me and sucked me in with it's warm, conversational tone. From there, things quickly went downhill.

Conceptually, there aren't many problems with the novel. The city of Elantris is now home to tortured souls covered in filth, most stuck in a state between being dead and alive. They are called here by the Shaod, with marks on their skin making them stick out before their exile. This is an appealing idea, although the execution of it is certainly flawed. The magic system is somewhat interesting, with users writing elaborate spells in the air in order to perform them, and give the book a hint of imagination. However, outside of these two things, Elantris doesn't have very much to offer.

Prince Raoden is banished to the city, and his arranged wife-to-be Sarene arrives in Kae to find that her betrothed is "dead." Running alongside Sarene's radically new life in Kae and Raoden's in Elantris is the story of Hrathen, a priest working on conquering a nation to protect it from a worse fate. These are pretty conventional plot threads, and feature relatively little twists or unexpected movements.

From the beginning of the first chapter, it's clear that this is Sanderson's first novel. He writes this as if it was a somewhat animated textbook, always disconnected from his characters and their predicaments, often writing as if he's observing them live their lives and writing what he sees with as little emotional involvement as possible. His dialogue is snappy, but doesn't feel realistic at all; everything said seems to head towards a predetermined plot point, whether it's awkwardly spoken or not. This is perhaps the worst part of this novel. If there was a drinking game where you took a shot every time you read "as if," "seemed," or a character "feel" something happen, by the end of this novel your liver would be disintegrated.

The three characters are conventional and write-by-numbers. Sarene is a young and naive woman, but manages to politically outsmart and out-maneuver veteran nobles and royalty who have spent their entire lives in the courts. Her character is perfect and unrealistic, and anybody who can relate to her lives inside a Disney movie, and will thus have a difficult time getting their hands on this novel.

Raoden is another fairly perfect character, without any real flaws and follows the basic innocent-boy-thrust-into-the-big-bad-world formula as far as his arc. There isn't very much interesting about him, and while his story is the most compelling of the three it quickly gets tiresome thanks to his nature, its predictability, and the writing.

Hrathen is the worst of the three, since his story is pretty crappy which doesn't mix well with this crappy writing. His chapters are the most arduous to read, and I would momentarily be happy when the perspective switched to one of the other two characters, before I remembered how horrible their stories are, and then I would start crying.

Brandon Sanderson receives lots of acclaim for his writing and is considered by many to be one of the best new writers in the genre. After reading his debut, I can say I have no idea why this is. The book is weakly written, boring, and (besides a few small cases, mentioned above) unoriginal. Luckily, this book has reaffirmed my previous feeling that anybody who is a successful writer is also a bad one.

Grade: 3/10

STRAIGHT MAN by Richard Russo

Richard Russo is a Pulitzer Prize-winning author who is one of the most universally acclaimed authors of the generation. But neither of these facts led me to buy this book; the title, Straight Man, would have made me laugh in third grade, so I picked it up.

The novel follows William Henry Deveraux Jr - who goes by Hank - a judgmental and elitist English professor at a college in Pennsylvania, and his adventures over the course of an insane week. The school's money is tighter than ever, and his divided colleagues wonder where his allegiances lie; his wife, the woman he desperately depends on, is gone, interviewing for a job in Philadelphia; pressures from higher up in the school's food chain to be promoted or fire members from the English department; his father, namesake and focus of resentment, is coming home to stay with his wife, Hank's holier-than-thou mother; and Hank comes under serious pressure after threatening to kill a goose on television - and a goose ends up dead.

Apparently they don't give out them there Pulitzers for nothing, because Russo does an excellent job of keeping control of these numerous threads. The plot moves smoothly from one moment to the next, with Hank's reflections while attempting to urinate (he believes he's passing kidney stones) often serving as a segue. There are well-crafted elements of satire in here, primarily aimed at the dysfunctional workings of universities. He also slips in a few jabs at animal rights activists and local television, although not serious jabs. All in all, the content is fairly safe, but is also wickedly hilarious, even the premise alone.

But while the plot and its various twists and turns are amusing, the true humor in this book is found with the cast of characters, each one of them vibrant, different, realistic, and side-splitting in their behavior. Hank himself is, as I said, an overcritical and apathetic man, and his commentary on events just passed are often some of the funniest. The English department is filled with an assortment of hilariously odd characters which help this book come alive: from Orshee, a man who shows sitcoms in class to replace texts, doesn't permit his students to write, and would have been anything besides a white man, "politically and morally speaking, had the choice been his"; to Gracie, a failed poet and former beauty who has let herself go in recent years, hiding her shame in perfume; to the funniest character in the book, Tony Coniglia, an incredibly brash and competitive man in his mid-fifties who never ceases to turn something into a competition. Here is a conversation between the two, following a one-sided racquetball game:

"There's nothing mysterious about what women want," Tony informs me. "They want everything. Just like us. What's interesting is what they'll settle for. What's interesting is that often they'll settle for me." He pauses to let me contemplate this mystery. "I don't know if they'd settle for you," he adds.

"Well--" I begin.

"The intensity of the orgasm isn't there anymore," Tony concedes, as if he's anticipated that I'm about to register this objection. "My first time was when I was thirteen, in Brooklyn. There was a woman who lived in our building. She invited me up one afternoon. I had this incredible orgasm standing in the middle of her living room before she could get out of her brassiere."

"I'm not sure that qualifies as fornication."

"That was my brother's position," Tony says. "When I told him about it, he set me straight. I even went back to the woman and apologized."

"Did she accept it?"

"Accept what?" Tony says. "If you're going to be careless with pronouns, we're going to have to talk about something else. Fornication requires precision."

"Not to mention patience," I add.

"Not to mention skill and stamina and affection," Tony continues. "Not to mention other things you're too young to understand. But in answer to your question, she did accept it, after all, quite graciously."

The book is consistently great until the last fifty pages or so, when it really slows down and comes to a conventional close. Considering how wild and unpredictable most of the rest of the novel is, the ending was a disappointment, and left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.

This is truly the one and only flaw with this work, which is both funny and inventive, and definitely a book that just about anybody will enjoy if they give it a chance.

Grade: 8.5/10

MIRRORED HEAVENS by David J. Williams

I talked a bit earlier about how much I hate Dan Simmons and his success as an author. I should note that this hatred extends out to new authors receiving acclaim, or just books with lots of buzz. What makes them so special? Their level of talent, most likely, but I choose to disregard that. This is why I haven't read anything yet by Patrick Rothfuss, Joe Abercrombie, Scott Lynch, R. Scott Bakker, and the list goes on and on. David J. Williams's Mirrored Heavens is both a debut and well-received by critics, but I came to read it anyway. And, truthfully, I'm glad I did.

The novel takes place about a century from now, in an Earth that is dominated by war and destruction - and also seems to be a frighteningly plausible future for our planet. A terrorist organization known as Autumn Rain takes credit for an attack on the Phoenix Space Elevator - a form of transportation from Earth to the Moon - and the hunt for them and what may possibly be the true culprit commences.

Jason Marlowe and Claire Haskell are two U.S. agents on this hunt. They may or may not be ex-lovers (whether their memories are legitimate or implanted isn't clear), and the terrorist attack brings them back together. Other characters are Lyle Spencer, a man making a run for the border, and The Operative, an assassin of sorts who is in space during the mayhem. Beyond this, there is a rich and complex history behind many of the behaviors and decisions of certain countries and their politicians. Although this backstory is never explained in the novel's text, there is an appendix detailing the major political events from 2035 to 2110, when the story takes place.

Thorough investigative research has led to me discovering that Williams has a career in video game writing, which is apparent by the pace of the plot. From the first page, this thing races along from one two- or three-page scene to the next, rarely taking a breath or slowing for even a moment. It's the type of book where you say you're going to read one more scene until the sun rises. Despite this rapid pacing, the characters manage to be fully developed and realistic within the world and its situations.

That being said, there is one downside to this ceaseless pacing, and that comes in the way of descriptions. Even a paragraph of description can be a lot in a novel like this one, and that is most likely the reason that Williams abandoned it for the most part. But, this leads to the images of settings and characters (especially Jason's armor), becoming fuzzy and distorted, and sometimes impossible to see.

Other than that, I struggle to find another legitimate flaw in this novel. The characters - as I said - are fantastic, real and well-written, the plot is filled with intrigue and twists, the concept is thought-provoking, and the writing in battle scenes are superb, effortlessly heightening the tension in a scene and raising the stakes.

In such novels, sometimes dialogue can really take a hit, but such is not the case here. (Although it should be noted that I enjoy dialogue in Tarantino films.) The following scene, set just before Jason meets up with Claire, is a great example, and also serves to illustrate the overall style and feel of the novel:

Marlowe's picking up steam. He's out of the worst trouble spots. He's got his thrusters going. He's more than halfway through the city. He's going straight on through till he gets out into country. It's a simple plan. It doesn't need to get complex. Nothing's touching him. Nothing's seeing him. He's got it made.

It's then he gets the call.

"Marlowe," says the voice.

"Yeah.

"We need you to take a little detour."

"Yeah?"

"We've got an asset down near you."

"So?"

"So we need it picked up."

"This suit's taken a beating. You've got no one else who can do it?"

"If we did, I wouldn't be calling. We're coming apart at the seams, Marlowe. We've got a grade-A disaster on our hands."

"Which I'm almost clear of."

"And you'll get clear again. You're hell on wheels, Marlowe. You've got to make all speed. Over and out."

Even as the last words are reaching Marlowe's ears, coordinates flare before him. They show city. They show river. The show the point where he needs to be. They show his own position - his now rapidly changing direction.

This is an entire scene, and it quickly smashes into the Operative and his story, a scene of similar length. The plot moves along at this pace from start to end, making it near impossible to put down.

Often with plots like this the ending is a letdown after all the drama and excitement in the beginning of the novel. Such is certainly not the case here. The last fifty or so pages of the book are easily the best, the plot seeming to be even more enticing as the story stampedes its way towards conclusion.

I'm very glad I picked up Mirrored Heavens. The sequel is currently out, and I plan on picking it up soon. I also plan on reading some other critically acclaimed debut from years past, to see if maybe the hype is worth something there like it is here. This book is highly recommended, and is certainly a book for a rainy day or anybody looking for an adventure.

Grade: 9.5/10

So here's the deal...

I read a lot, and frequently walk down the street after finishing a book, screeching my reaction. Recently, a judge informed me that if I do this again I will face legal punishment, as well as a fine, and suggested that I start a blog. So, here we are.

Primarily, I read fantasy, although I'll scoop up books from any genre if it intrigues me. I tend to reject hype surrounding most books, and will put off reading something unanimously acclaimed for a year or so, yet tell everybody that I have already read it and it sucked.

I am a humble man, and as such do not have very high expectations for this blog. In fact, I doubt anybody will ever read this, ever, except somebody who made it all the way to page 10 of their Google search and thought this site had a video of a panda breakdancing. It doesn't at this time, sadly, but who knows what the future holds.

The content of this blog will most likely consist of the following:

• Book Reviews
• Rants
• Obnoxious Humor (Primarily Sarcasm)
• Other Reviews (Movies/TV/Music)
• Reactions to whatever the rest of the blogosphere is all worked up about

Personally, I'm excited about this, as are all the voices in my head. Feel free to comment about anything at all, except my mother. Thanks for stopping by, and enjoy your time here.

DROOD by Dan Simmons

Dan Simmons is a well-known name in the realm of speculative fiction. His works are beloved by many and have led him to acquire both a dedicated following and widespread critical acclaim. Naturally, I have not read anything by him until now, choosing to reject his success and claim that he is popular purely because of the ignorance of the masses. One day I found twenty dollars on my way to the bookstore (that's a reason to walk, kiddies) and spent it - on a whim - on Drood. And the rest is history.

The novel is primarily about the late life of Charles Dickens, an author everybody is familiar with thanks to the casual butchering of his material by Hollywood. It is told through the eyes of Wilkie Collins, who was a close friend and secret rival of Dickens, as well as a man who looked like he had long conversations with squirrels. Basically, the plot of the novel is about Dickens pursuing a mysterious man named Drood, from who his last - and ultimately unfinished - novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, is derived. Dickens goes deeper into the dark underworld of London, finding himself searching in hidden cities underneath graveyards, discovering more and more of the sordid and mysterious history of this man. For the most part, that is what you're getting yourself into with this thing, so if that doesn't really interest you, be prepared for a long ride.

Collins is the narrator of this beast (it would take little to no effort to commit murder with the book), and is deliciously unreliable. The envy and contempt he holds for Dickens are apparent throughout the novel, both in flat-out statements as well as the way in which the story is told. Collins will often create small excuses within the narrative to justify his actions, put him in the right, and make him a victim of the arrogant and senseless Dickens. This heightens the reading experience and really creates an added dimension of realism that is enjoyable to read.

On the flip side of this coin, the narrative is frequently tiresome. Most of the first hundred pages or so can be considered purely biographical. While occasionally interesting, many of these moments are superfluous and wearying. It is clear that Simmons meticulously researched his subject before working on this, but not everything he learned needs to be included. Oftentimes, the story will break as Collins tells the reader - for a page or so - about some intricate working of London during the time period. This instantly snaps the reader back to reality and tugs them away from the story. I, for one, often had trouble finding motivation to get back into the story after such moments.

So it is clear that it takes way too long to set the scene, but, thankfully, once things are ready to go Simmons masterfully handles things. In the midst of these moments, there is no choice but to continue flipping the pages, as the plot builds up and both suspense and mystery are raised. Sadly, as good as these moments are, they don't justify the great lengths it often takes to reach them.

In regards to character, Simmons crafts both Collins and Dickens superbly. Their encounters drip realism, and vocal engagements between the two are often a joy to read. Other characters jump in and out of the plot, and each feels distinct and colorful. Still, the shining point is Dickens and Collins, keeping in mind that Collins is the one consciously telling the story to the reader. Take, for example, this scene, as Dickens and Collins talk about how the mysterious Drood arrived in London.

I still could make no sense of it. "But certainly, Charles," I said softly, "you're not suggesting that your bizarre-looking Mr Drood was a... what? A ghost? A ghoul of some sort? The walking dead?"

Dickens laughed again, even more boyishly this time. "My dear Wilkie. Really. If you were a criminal, Wilkie - known to the port police as well as to London police - what would be the easiest and most effective way that you could get from France back to London?"

It was my turn to laugh, but not with any deligh, I can assume you. "Not by coffin," I said. "All the way from France? It's... unthinkable."

"Hardly, my dead boy," said Dickens. "Merely a few hours of discomfort. Hardly more uncomfortable than normal ferry and rail travel today, if one must be perfectly candid. And who bothers to inspect a coffin with a week-old corpse rotting in it?"

"Was his corpse a week old?" I asked.

Dickens only flicked the white fingers of his glove at me, as if I had made a jest.

The plot, when you get to it, is intriguing and sometimes captivating, but definitely isn't strong enough to carry all the extra weight around it. All in all, it's a somewhat disappointing story when questions are answered, and certainly isn't reward enough for the muscle strain I experienced holding the massive book as I trudged through another description of the social workings of the time.

While Drood is not a bad novel, it isn't a great one either. It merely exists in the realm of decent novels, never to be re-read or recommended. Based on certain elements of the story, I will most likely read at least one science-fiction work from Simmons, and hope that they aren't on the same level as this is.

Grade: 6.5/10

APATHY AND OTHER SMALL OTHER SMALL VICTORIES by Paul Neilan

Despite the fact that I'm a cynical, depressing person, I love comedy in all its forms. From stand-up to film, if it's funny I want to get my hands on it. It should come as no surprise that - given my cynical and depressing ways - I find dark humor to be the best. So the cover of Paul Neilan's Apathy and Other Small Victories, featuring a figure (usually found on rooms distinguishing which sex the bathroom has been suited for) shooting himself in the head drew me in, and I began reading in the store.

The novel follows the path of Shane, a slacker who makes no effort to be anything else, as he recounts recent occurrences in his life. We are introduced to all sorts of freaks that Shane encounters, including a luckless dentist and his deaf assistant, a crazy woman who is also a brutal sex partner, and an office filled with several types of insane.

All of these events are loosely held together by a criminal investigation Shane is under after the deaf dentist's assistant - Marlene - is murdered. Taken as a whole, the plot is really an assortment of brief events in this man's life, with some of the threads building on each other, but most just coming to stage for a short, hilarious moment, and then disappearing forever.

Shane's attitude fits the title of the novel, as he is almost utterly indifferent to everybody in the novel - often even himself. He does, however, show Mercy to Marlene after her rendition of "Jessie's Girl" by Rick Springfield, which leads him to reflect on his nature:

I have always though of people as punch lines. I laugh at everyone, all the time. I laugh when they fall down, no matter how old they are, even if they break their hip and they're my grandmother. Jesus my mom was fucking pissed.

For the most part, this is the kind of humor you're going to be getting as a reader. It is dry and cruel and insulting, and it often made me cry from laughing. While reading, there were several times when I put the book down for several minutes to cackle until I started freaking everybody on the bus out.

This book is short, and definitely one that can be read in one sitting. Neilan does a great job of moving from topic to topic and person to person, presenting each situation is short scenes that fly by, so that it takes a moment to realize you've just read about an office, Greyhound busses, sex, and then an encounter with a nonsense-spewing drug-and-fireworks-dealer who has a guinea pig for his sex slave.

Despite some of the broader moments of comedy (like meeting Mobo, the dealer mentioned above), the best moments of the book tend to be witty - and vivid - descriptions, which really set this book apart, such as this one (after a particularly weak greeting given at Shane's new job):

I tried to fake a smile but all I could do was wince and grit my teeth and groan a hello that sounded like Ed McMahon after a massive stroke.

Apathy and Other Small Victories is a hilarious debut from Paul Neilan, an author whose future work will definitely be eagerly read by me. This novel packs several laughs per paragraph, and is highly recommended to anybody who wants to laugh and isn't timid about how that desire can be met.

Grade: 9/10