cmjwallace

There’s an odd dichotomy in my thinking about Collins’s The Hunger Games series. On the one hand, I do like the books, although the writing certainly isn’t spectacular; on the other hand, they have nearly fatal flaws that irritate me to no end. If I talk about what I like, I’ll probably be preaching to the choir if the author’s popularity is anything to judge by, so instead I’m going to discuss what annoys me.

First, Katniss remains obnoxiously self-centered. She finally admits that she’s a selfish coward, and that’s when I thought there might be some hope for really liking her because I expected the author to develop that theme and raise her from the level of predictable, virtually cardboard character. Regrettably, I was mistaken. Even though Katniss does eventually realize that she’s probably self-absorbed and despicable, that’s as far as the author goes with it. It’s difficult to see such a character as a heroine, which she is manifestly supposed to be and which I suspect readers want her to be. But the story doesn’t allow it.

Second, the narrative explaining Katniss’s actions made less sense in this book. Although her threatening to kill herself with berries in book 1 didn’t seem like enough to set off a firestorm of defiance across the sheeplike population of Panem, even on top of a couple of other mildly insubordinate acts frowned on by the Capitol, I was able to accept it. But she waffles in book 2, her earlier rebelliousness no longer in evidence. What happened? She ends up being flat and static like the other characters, with no development to speak of, although for the most part the story line is enough to keep the reader engaged.

Third, as in the first book, there are the unfathomable (non)actions of people who know they are in great danger, have a chance to do something about it, and don’t. Katniss’s life is threatened by the president, and she could escape what is essentially an open, free, unguarded city but doesn’t. Her family is in danger because of her, yet she does nothing. Why on earth not?

The books suffer from a lack of foreshadowing, which makes the plot abrupt and contrived at times. I found it hard to believe that Peeta and Katniss are suddenly bent on defying the Capitol and saving the world when, up to that point and with few exceptions, they’ve never seemed to care a whit about anyone but themselves. I would have liked to see Collins lay a foundation in the first book for the uprising that takes place in this one, but there’s really nothing. Then, as if some groundwork actually had been laid and it should come as no surprise, Gale remarks that the uprising is “finally” happening.

The same dearth of foreshadowing made the ending of the book unsatisfying. It didn’t seem like a natural extension of the story. I like the direction it’s going, but the explanation for the characters’ actions in the Quarter Quell was a non sequitur.

I’m happy to say that Catching Fire underwent far better editing than The Hunger Games. The editors still don’t seem to know what a subjunctive is and had problems with who/whom, as before, but other errors weren’t nearly as numerous. Examples include “It would be [have been] nice if he’d come to me with this earlier”; “trying to staunch [stanch] the flow of blood”; “you…hung [hanged]…Seneca Crane”; the frequent punctuation error of a missing comma after an em dash when dialogue is cut off but the sentence continues, as in this: “It’s not—” I get out, but I’m cut off by…; and “Which begs the question, What is?” Someday, I’ll run across a book whose author or editor knows the definition of beg the question and doesn’t use it as an intro to one.

Would young fans of dystopia like this book? Yes; by all accounts they’re wild about it. I liked it too. But I didn’t love it.

I had few preconceived notions about The Hunger Games when I started reading it because I’d managed to avoid a lot of the hype that surrounds popular books. (I know: Figure that one out.) Most of the details I’d come by had been related by a friend, who said the book was interesting and worth reading. She was right on both counts and I did enjoy it.

However, it wasn’t the ubertome I’d expected from what buildup I’d been exposed to. The plot is engaging enough, but I kept finding myself thinking of Stephen King’s The Running Man, with a little bit of Logan’s Run thrown in for good measure. When I tried to put my finger on why I felt that way, I concluded that the book had originality but didn’t quite manage to break the mold of dystopian commonplace.

The main thing that kept me from being unequivocally enthusiastic about the book is this: I didn’t find it believable that the people of Panem accept their fate unquestioningly, behaving uniformly like sheep patiently awaiting their turn in the abattoir. They have the ability to get outside the Seam’s electrified enclosure and flee their prison because the electricity rarely works and there’s a hole in the fence. Why in the world don’t they take advantage of it and escape the district? There are no armed forces keeping the residents in check, no tracking devices on the citizens of the districts. Anyone with a modicum of sense wouldn’t hang around long enough to undergo the reaping and chance being forced into the Hunger Games, or watch their loved ones be slaughtered in them, or expose their children to that risk. Gale actually suggests leaving, but Katniss thinks the idea is preposterous. We’re never told why it’s such an outrageous proposition, however. It seems as though she should jump at the chance because her little sister, whom she loves very much, is now eligible for the reaping.

If you’re fond of dystopian tales or simply a likeable story, you’ll enjoy this book. It was entertaining and at times engrossing, and I plan to read the rest of the series.

I was surprised by the careless editing. The Scholastic imprint used to mean that the book it graced would be well edited, with hardly an error. Not any longer. Examples of the many mistakes include subjunctives (“Better he does [do] it in the woods”), word choice (“skinny arms around me like a vice [vise]”; “I hear the anthem that proceeds [precedes] the death recap”; “the others will be honing [homing] in”; “trying to staunch [stanch] the flow”), verb inflection (“the front bakery bell rung [rang]”), comma splices (“I have Peeta to clutch for balance, he is so steady”), and spelling (“the blood bath [bloodbath] at the”). The number of errors was jarring but not enough to ruin the book for those who pay attention to such things.

An IRA bomb kills Nguyen Ngoc Minh’s wife and daughter. Time after time the unassuming businessman asks the police how the case involving his family is progressing, and time after time he is shunted aside or ignored, all his questions remaining unanswered. Finally realizing that the establishment will offer no help, he decides to take on the killers himself.

Unbeknownst to the authorities, Nguyen is perfectly capable of doing so: He is an explosives expert trained by the North Vietnamese and is skilled in jungle warfare.

Nguyen finagles a meeting with the primary advisor to Sinn Fein, the IRA’s political arm, to demand the names of the people who killed his family. The advisor doesn’t know. Nguyen doesn’t accept the answer.

And the battle between one man and organized terrorists begins.

Now for the editing.

The dearth of good editors extends across the pond to Hodder and Stoughton of the UK, Leather’s publisher, whose redactors apparently are unaware of the utility of the comma, among many other niceties of punctuation and grammar. An exemplary gem is “it was a common sight in the newsroom to see [journalists] plugged into tape-recorders transcribing their tapes and breathing through their mouths.” Such a construction brought to mind little anthropomorphic machines with amazing abilities and a slight cold.

Subjunctives were butchered as well: “told him how important it was that the men were [be] found” and “It was more important that the match heads were [be] ignited in the vapour”

There were many, many comma splices and the odd extraneous comma: “that can be done, is being done, you must believe me”

The editors would benefit from an understanding of definitions: “and the two floors above it collapsed down [collapse = to cave or fall in or give way, so “down” is right out]” and “It was an added bonus [bonus = something in addition to what is expected].” The latter occurs more than once, so it wasn’t an oversight.

The editors also could use a lesson in the fine art of researching terms. In one instance we’re treated to “faded blue Levis” and in another, “tight Levi jeans,” both of which are incorrect. It’s Levi’s. But at least the editors were consistently wrong.

Punctuation errors included “After two weeks [weeks’] basic training,” “while she’s trying I’ll have to stay here otherwise The Chinaman will just disappear [missing two commas and a semicolon in this jumbled mass of words],” “It must be important otherwise he’d have [again missing the semicolon and comma: “important; otherwise,…”]” “bird’s eye view [bird’s-eye]”

Misuse included “well over six-foot tall [six feet]” and “it would have had to have been a fairly large animal [should have been either “it would have had to be” or “it would have to have been,” but please, for the love of heaven, not both].” In regard to tracking animals, the editors missed “looking for the spore.” Spoor is what the characters were hunting, unless they got hungry and decided to go after mushrooms, that is.

Kudos to the author for knowing that career is a verb and for using it correctly: “[The dog] careered over to Hennessy and put her head in his lap.” It’s one of the few times I’ve seen it used instead of careen in anything published after about 1960.

For sheer enjoyment, I would have given the book four stars, despite the gratuitous sex scenes; for editing, two. So I compromised. The editorial deficiencies won’t keep me from reading other Stephen Leather books, but I hope he finds better editors.

A researcher conducting clinical trials for revival of coma patients discovers that OSZ68 serum is capable not only of reviving the mostly dead but also of revitalizing the really dead, most notably their brain tissue. Prozombie factions and legislation alike flow from this discovery, including zombie equality laws to protect zombie rights.

Roy (nonzombie) and Mac (zombie) are friends who go on a vacation together, Mac having attained his exalted state of undeadness by drowning and then being revived with OSZ68. He subsequently loses his job as a lifeguard because of the possibility of his contaminating the water. His barrister defends him thus: “Floating bits of Mr MacReady were negligible [in comparison with] the overwhelming positive, namely that not having to breathe made him perfectly suited as a lifeguard.”

In the course of their vacation, Roy and Mac run afoul of a scientist who’s working on creating more compliant zombies—aka zombie slaves—and discover some of the truth behind the creation of OSZ68. I’d like to have included a nice little summary sentence here, but the book is a cliff-hanger, and I mean a precipitous and precipitate one. So this is it.

Witney has created an entertaining novel that follows the adventures of kinder, gentler zombies than the run-of-the-mill brain-devouring types that rampage (however slowly and stiffly) through so many books and movies. His writing is humorous and at times witty.

I’m not sure who Witney’s target audience is, but the book would probably appeal to teens and zombie aficionados. However, there is a fair amount of profanity in the novel, the dreaded f-word being among the repeat offenders. The story would have been better without the vulgarity.

As is the case with so many indie books, this one suffered from reams of bad editing, which may or may not be the fault of the author because there are so many bad editors out there. Errors included punctuation and word misuse, misspellings, and grammatical faux pas. Here’s a smattering: “He didn’t dislike his job, it had decent hours” [comma splice]; “contemplating the intricacies…was a past time of” [pastime]; “stop him from reverting back to” [reverting to]; “Falkland islands” [Islands]; “two years experience” [years’ experience]; “he said ,in a” [he said, in a]; “investigated., The” [investigated. The]; “viscosity,which” [viscosity, which]; “ever other day” [every other day]; “the doctor was eluding to Goran” [was alluding to]; “Margret Thatcher” [Margaret Thatcher]; “What!?” [What?!].

One of the amusing mental images engendered by the lack of a comma—whose dearth was frequent, alas—was this: “[T]he doctor…was now sitting in front of one of the bubbling liquids taking notes.”

Zombies wasn’t my cup of tea, but people who are fond of the genre will probably like it better and rate it higher.

Farrow’s novella is a creepy little tale of Thomas and Keziah, a brutal encounter one unfortunate night, and the horrifying changes that ensue.

From the outset, the author maintains suspense and piques the reader’s interest. What in the world happened before the story opened that would make Thomas do what he’s about to do? Why on earth would Keziah let him? Farrow spins out the answers at exactly the right pace and offers an unexpected (and rather unpleasant!) ending that’s in keeping with the dark tone of the work.

I recommend this short story to lovers of the horror genre.

However, as is the case with so many indie publications, this book is in need of a good editing. I hope that Farrow will publish a redacted version.

Banana Man is Danny Zuco’s favorite comic book. Unfortunately, the one store in town that sells it stocks only three copies—and Danny’s school chums collect it too. In a race against time, the weather, an interfering cop, and a mean dog, Danny must try to earn the dollar he needs to buy the comic book and then get to the store before his friends can snap up every copy.

Banana Man was a fun read, and Blake kept the suspense going throughout the story. The ending was surprising, and I found it rather abrupt, but perhaps the book was the better for it.

Although this was children’s literature, there was language in it that was inappropriate for the age range (“God damn,” “son of a bitch”), and there was a violent scene that included a man beating a dog and threatening his son (“I swear to God I’ll knock your teeth out.”).

The book needs a good editing because it had many grammatical and typographical errors, such as “sealed shut [a tautology],” “to keep them sold-out [sold out],” “under the metal framed breezeway” [metal-framed],” “and it was bad news . [space before period],” and “well being [well-being].” Otherwise, it was an enjoyable book.

I first encountered Berry’s poetry as an epigraph in Cornelia Funke’s Inkheart series and was captivated by “The Peace of Wild Things.” Intrigued, I bought a volume of his verse and was not disappointed.

He sets the tone of the collection with the bucolic “The Apple Trees.” Throughout this poem and the rest of the book, he weaves the threads of his writing into lush tapestries that delight the mind’s eye.

In reading his poetry, I was struck once again by the thought that language is one of the true enchantments of this world, able through the simple means of symbols on paper to conjure a universe of images or invoke an emotive response.

Although not every offering in The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry attains the same level of beautiful imagery that “The Peace of Wild Things” did, as a whole the author achieves his goal of providing a representation of his work. From the starkness of war to the joy and sorrows of love and loss, Berry proves that he is adept with the evocative phrase.

Barton has written a delightful, humorous story about FBI Agent Henry Hartman and his wife, Sydney, who are on their honeymoon—and on the run from the Boston mob. Mixing work with pleasure, Hartman operates a sting while he and Sydney flee and try to avoid being whacked by various hit men.

Barton’s writing is the most mature indie author style I’ve come across yet, and kudos to her for that. She has an easy technique that makes her characters believable and likeable. Henry Hartman’s Boondoggle Crisis lacked the depth of a top-drawer novel and slowed a bit toward the end, but it was a light, pleasant read.

Then why the low rating?

Those of you who follow my reviews know that I’m an editor, and if a book has problems, they clamor for my attention and distract me from the story. Boondoggle was plagued by typos and grammatical errors. Examples include spaces before periods and commas, single rather than double closing quotation marks and extraneous quotation marks (“Oh? “What gave it away?”), dangling participles (“Once inside the building, the sounds of yelping”), hyphenated adverbial modifiers (“politically-connected”), typos (“Wrentham” vs “Wretham” for a character’s name; “make it a eye-catching”), misspellings (“snow bank” [snowbank], “bird baths” [birdbaths], “slight of hand” [sleight], “Pet Smart” and “Petsmart” [should be PetSmart]), redundancies (“direct beeline”), word misuse (“violates federal laws or flaunts ethics” [flouts]), and logic errors (“I have a man I love and a dog. Four sets of brown eyes that make me melt.” [1 man + 1 dog = 2 sets of eyes, unless this was a sci-fi book and I missed that somehow]). Most of these mistakes occurred within the first 19 pages of the 163-page book, and the list isn’t exhaustive.

There’s great potential for this book, and I hope Barton publishes a revised version.

Love it: a thriller with sardonic narrative and a smart-mouthed hero, which made the book more enjoyable. Within the first few pages, DeMille amused me with this gem, which is one of my pet peeves: “Now, everyone talks about killing Islamic fundamentalists and winning the war on terror—grammatical correctness would be ‘the war on terrorism,’ but this is a newspeak word.” I cackled! Whenever I hear talking heads discussing “the war on terror,” I invariably picture some poor phobic slob trying futilely not to dwell on the fanged thing that may be lurking in the closet.

Detective John Corey and Agent Kate Mayfield, his wife, are on the trail of a psychopath whose ownership of an oil corporation gives him the means to wage global-scale war. The desire stems (in convoluted fashion) from the events of September 11, 2001. With the help of other prominent and influential members of the mysterious and elitist Custer Hill Club, the tycoon has everything in place to pull off a staggering, unconscionable masterstroke that will change the face of the United States and the worldwide balance of power. Alas, when the rubber met the road, the plot could have used some tightening and tension-ratcheting; there wasn't much in the way of suspense.

The psychology of the book is interesting in light of the national feeling post-9/11, and the storyline, most unfortunately, becomes meaningful in a way not possible without those horrific events as a commonality. DeMille’s gritty characters are an adjunct to the psychology. They’re flawed and the organizations they work for are flawed, too, which adds to the complexity and believability of the plot—which it needed, as I alluded to earlier.

This was a traditionally published book (Vision), which brings me to the editing. Indie authors, don’t ever labor under the misapprehension that traditional publishing equals excellent editing. It ain’t necessarily so. Here’s a smattering of the shortcomings: “The info lady noticed Kate and I leaving [noticed I leaving?]”; “A handsome guy in tailored whites, whom [who] I just knew was the French chef”; “a.k.a. [aka]”; “Even now,. [stray period] with this apparent”; “The FBI in both cities are contacting [last I heard, the FBI, despite its proliferation of tentacles, was still a single entity]”; “Madox didn’t want Kate and I to know [didn’t want I to know?]”; and numerous others, including subjunctive and gerundive errors.

And on a final editorial note, the award for author’s favorite phrase goes to “informed,” as in “he informed me” and “she informed him” instead of the much simpler “said.” In a word, TMI.

Should all this keep you from reading the book? Not at all, but it certainly should give the editors at Vision pause.

Nine Coaches Waiting is typical of Mary Stewart’s work, with the usual elements of suspense and romance. I enjoy her writing because she paints lyrical phrases with the brush of her craft: the pen.

I’m not normally a fan of romances, but Stewart nicely caters to my aversion by keeping that element to a minimum—mostly—concealing it among plenty of intrigue so that when it does occur, it’s as if a sunbeam has escaped the tale’s lowering storm clouds.

From an editorial perspective, the book is very good, which is to be expected from work of that era (1958). But it’s not perfect, with typos rather than grammatical errors being the venial sins.

Stewart has an easy writing style that beckons the reader in like warm firelight on a chill evening. I recommend Nine Coaches Waiting to anyone who likes her books, an interesting suspenseful story, or lovely writing.

http://cmjwallace.com/

In Call for the Dead, we’re introduced to the British Secret Service’s George Smiley in the inimitable, clever style of John Le Carre. The author’s Berne University and Oxford education come to the fore on the vehicle of his prose: the learned thriller.

From the moment the rather anti-Bondian Smiley (he’s middle-aged, short, and fat) receives a wake-up call intended for a dead man--one who apparently committed suicide the night before--he suspects that all is not as it seems, and the nearly relentless pace and suspense of the novel are set. I say nearly because the tempo of the book flagged in one small section toward the end, but otherwise I had no quibble with it.

A pleasant surprise was that in the midst of the tense story, Le Carre deftly conjures humor that acts as a perfect foil to the plot. For example, in showing Smiley’s contempt for a manipulative superior, he writes that the supervisor was “toying with the businessman’s cutlery--paper knife, cigarette box, lighter--the whole chemistry set of official hospitality.”

For those who are familiar with Le Carre’s work but might not yet have discovered this little gem, it’s well worth reading. And for those who might not yet have discovered Le Carre, this is a good place to start.


http://cmjwallace.com/

Knowing the history of Macgregor’s Propinquity made the book a fascinating read; he published it about 18 years before The Da Vinci Code was released, and the material is comparable. But there the similarities end.

Propinquity is not a thriller in the classic sense, and the pith of the story didn’t begin until about chapter 9. However, what it lacked in pace and suspense it more than made up for in humor. Macgregor’s writing is witty, erudite, and amusing, and those qualities, which the book has in spades, are what engaged me. Oddly enough, the story left me feeling that he has great potential as a humorist, although I doubt that that was his goal.

Those of you who follow my reviews know that I’m an editor and that I evaluate and rate with a book’s editorial merit in mind. This book had errors, but none were egregious enough to jerk me out of the story. In evidence were some word misuse, punctuation and spelling mistakes, and typos (e.g., “snapping at my hells,” which was rather Freudian and droll, actually, considering the subject matter). A few places had word repetitions such as “she she” and “telling him telling him.” In short, the manuscript could use a good polishing.

That being said, here’s something I’ve never said before: The wit and sophistication of the work overshadowed its redactional deficiencies, and I was able to ignore them and enjoy the book.

I look forward to what this author has to offer.

http://cmjwallace.com/

Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany is magnificent, the writing witty and humorous yet imbued with pathos. This tale of an extraordinary boy and his best friend as they pass through milestones of life and the societal struggles of their time is cleverly crafted and executed, the mark of a master raconteur.

If you’ve never read this novel, rush out and buy it. If it’s been years since you last visited its pages, treat yourself once again to the work of a writer at the top of his form.

http://cmjwallace.com/

Sunderwynde Revisited is Joel Bresler’s crazed tale of paranormal shenanigans in the suburbs. I won’t belabor the plot; see Kathy Cohen’s excellent review for such details.

On the whole, Bresler achieved his goal as a humorist: the book made me smile from its tongue-in-cheek dedication (“To the first Obama Administration, without which I would never have had the time to write novels”) to the very end and sometimes made me laugh.

This easy, light read was amusing and worthwhile.

http://cmjwallace.com/

First, a caveat: A fellow Goodreadsian recommended this book, and I decided to give it a try even though I’m not a fan of the romance genre. If I were, I would have said Allred’s The Sweet Gum Tree merited four stars. I think those who like the genre would enjoy this book.

Allred draws the reader in with her easy writing style, and her characters are likeable and believable. The beginning of the book, in which Nick and Alix are children, was very well done and she keeps tension going nicely throughout the tale, although I guessed the explanation to one of the major unknowns.

However, she lost me about the time the kids hit puberty and the hormones started raging, but I forged doggedly on. Books with high estrogen content make me cringe, and heaving bosoms and smoldering eyes just aren’t my thing. And the love scene near the end of the book was so over the top that it made me cackle. I was reminded of a silly movie series called Naked Gun; in one episode, a character starts reading aloud from a blue novel, the section in question having to do with purple-headed warriors and quivering mounds of love pudding. You get the idea.

Editing errors included missing words and misspellings, but the most annoying errors were introduced during text conversion, I believe. There were quite a few instances of an empty box that preceded words or partial words; for example, [box]avourite. Even Microsoft Word’s mindless spelling checker could have caught that one, although these probably occurred post–Word document. Therefore, I advise readers not to purchase the paperback version.

If you like romances, read The Sweet Gum Tree. If you’re like me and you just finished Allred’s book, go read something raw and edgy to clear your mental palate, like The Postman Always Rings Twice.

http://cmjwallace.com/

Abrupt. Raw. The writing style perfectly suited the characters and content. I immediately loathed both Frank Chambers and Cora Papadakis. James M. Cain did his job well.

http://cmjwallace.com/