Book Reviews: The Jackal of Nar
Tyrants and Kings by John Marco. Book 1.
I had to think long and hard about whether I would review this book. For starters, it was released almost ten years ago. Also, I decided right at the outset these reviews were my way of sharing with you the books I was in some way surprised to have enjoyed, or that I fell utterly in love with.
The Jackal of Nar was heavy going. Normally I breeze through books but this one took me a great deal of time. By the time I put the books down I felt like I had achieved some massive feat of endurance. Maybe I had.
The more I thought about it, the more I realised the problem wasn’t with the book, it was with my expectations. I’ve come to expect the people I like to survive at least until the end of the first book. I expect this even when the characters are fighting in some sort of war. I suspect my fantasy gateway drugs set me up for that. For the longest time I thought that in fantasy only the bad died young. Though clearly a fantasy novel, the Jackal of Nar is grounded in reality when it comes to the chances of survival during a battle.
Much of the book revolves around war. It’s a situation which brings out the best and worst in everyone and emphasises the existence of moral grey areas. Some characters do good things for good reasons and bad. Likewise, they do bad things. Some who start out heroes become distinctly less so and others who start out as villains turn out to be far nobler than we first believed. Lives were lost needlessly, sometimes gratuitously. It really was war. It left me a little shell-shocked.
After a certain amount of recovery time, I decided I did like the book in my own, roundabout way. I may not have enjoyed it exactly, but I don’t regret reading it. If nothing else, it made me think. And I like to think.
If you’re looking for some light, fluffy reading, look elsewhere. It’s not a bad book, it’s just not an easy one. If you’re after something a bit more serious, this isn’t a bad choice.
Book Reviews: Before They Are Hanged
The First Law by Joe Abercrombie. Book 2. 30 second review.
Before They Are Hanged picks up where The Blade Itself left off. A few new characters come in, a few old friends die, and Logen finally gets some attention which doesn’t lead to any new scars. If you’ve read and enjoyed The Blade Itself there’s no compelling reason not to read Before They Are Hanged. If not, you’d be advised to pick up TBI first.
Also, same warning as with the first. Leave it if you don’t like swearing.
Panic Stations
I have been very remiss of late. Writing has taken up a great deal of my time and attention, or, more accurately I suppose, planning to write. I’ve built up quite a backlog of things I intended to post here and the idea of catching up on it all is in the region of overwhelming now.
So I’ve devised a plan. I’m abandoning everything except the book reviews. See how easy that was? Now I only have three things on my list of things to do. Most of what I’d planned was time-sensitive anyway, and the moment has passed. It’s never too late to share a good book.
Also in the spirit of catching up, if a book is second or later in a series it gets what I’m calling a 30 second review unless it requires special attention for some reason. Them’s the breaks.
Anyway, sorry for the protracted silence and hopefully we’ll return to something like a regularly scheduled broadcast in the near future.
Uncharity
Ah, I’m a terrible person. With all of the poverty in the world, all of the people in need of charity and support, do you know what I did today? I went in to the city, to my favourite book store. While I was there, I picked up a moleskine notebook. I also got myself a copy of Fiona McIntosh’s new book (technically not out yet, but who’s counting?), Royal Exile. To ice that little cake, I also put in an order for Jeff Somers’ The Digital Plague, which I’ve wanted since reading The Electric Church.
Just to make sure the universe knew today was a day of wastefulness on my part, I finished all that off by picking up a keyboard for my MacBook so I don’t have to make do without that stealthy-silent Apple-y goodness if I want to use the second screen without twisting my body in directions this human body wasn’t designed to go in. Happy times.
Sorry, third world.
A Message
Tailgaters: What do you suppose requires more driver skill, riding my rear bumper, or maintaining a steady speed of precisely the speed limit, without deviation, despite the suburban tractor threatening to violate me every time I glance in the rear view mirror? Remember that next time you’re thinking you’re clever.
In other news, I have nearly completed stage 1 of my all new planning process. That is all.
The Funny Farm
A recent conversation with my mother devolved into a competition to figure out which of us our pets hated the least. You see, I was fondly reminiscing about our (now deceased) dog. When we first got her, mum put down newspapers around to house-train her. I don’t remember how that was supposed to work (unless you count “too well”) but give me a break, I was 8 at the time.
Mum was sitting on the floor one night, I think after she was satisfied the dog had been properly trained, reading *drumroll* the paper. The dog came along, crouched and did her business. I never forgot that lesson. If you’re going to teach your dog to pee on paper, read at the table.
Anyway, she returned fire by reminding me of the cat. Puss-Puss (yeah, whatever, we had a duck called Quick-Quack too) was a stray. She got caught in one of dad’s traps but mum found her and decided to feed her. As you do. So she stuck around.
Now this cat… My parents’ running theory was that she had been dumped because her former owners didn’t much care for her personality. I actually suspect Satan may have just kicked her out of Hell. She put the ‘evil’ in ‘devil’. It’s a good thing she (eventually) died before her plans could come to fruition. Otherwise we’d be facing hordes of slavering cat-demons all under her command. You think I’m exaggerating, I can sense that from here, but you never had to look her in the eye.
I was sitting, as I did, in my chair by the door when the cat hopped up onto the veranda and looked up at me expectantly. Dangling from her mouth was a very sorry-looking mouse. I stared back at the cat and said something impolite. She tipped her little cat-head to the side and studied me with an almost creepy intensity. We remained like that for quite some time (never let a cat win a staring contest was my motto), then finally she apparently got bored and trotted away.
I got up the next morning and realised my mistake. Sitting in a neat little pile on the passenger seat of my car was the half-digested remains of that same mouse.
Mum thought that was enough to win her an admission from me that the animals hated her the least. Not a chance. Because guess who was the one to clean that mouse up. That’s right. Mum.
If that cat was smart enough to recognise me, understand my derisive comment and identify which car was mine then she was smart enough to know I wouldn’t be doing the cleaning.
That’s right, old woman, those animals hated me the least.
Spoiled For Choice
It’s Brendan’s birthday on Sunday and boy am I peeved. How are those two things related? Well, I’m glad you asked.
I figured I had two options this year. I could either take him somewhere for dinner, or I could get him a present and cook something. Effort-wise on my part option A was the preferable choice. But what point would there be in going out to dinner if we didn’t catch a movie too? So I put my thinking cap on which I normally try not to do because I don’t like to drain the batteries, and came up with The Dark Knight. It’s been out for a while but not that long, grand scheme.
I summoned my electronic helper monkeys and sent them off. Or, you know, I went to the Greater Union website. Because, hey, Gold Class. Comfy seats, no under-18’s, food and booze. That’s a perfect night out for me even without the entertainment. When I got there, my perfectly laid plans crumbled around my ears.
From Wednesday, the only movie I could find listed on that website was that new Star Wars cartoon thing. Man, than looked lame BEFORE it ruined my plans. Now I may have to set George Lucas’s beard on fire. (That is a beard, right, not a Gungan pelt or whatever?)
So very irritated but figuring, fine, we’ll just go to a regular movie theatre and, you know, sneak our own booze in and do you know what I found? The. Same. Goddamn. Problem.
That’s right, as far as I can tell, next weekend is a Star Wars extravaganza here in rainy old Adelaide.
Now I know Star Wars gets a lot of bums in a lot of seats. I get that. Really. But every single cinema? God damn it, now I’m going to have to cook because I am not forking over money for that.