Review: A Clash of Kings - George R. R. Martin

In the second book of the now-iconic Games of Thrones series ... nothing happens.

The book begins with four claimants to the throne of Westeros; it finishes with the same amount.  All the major political figures of the first two books start and end in the same place with only one major incident at the book's climax, but without much actually being accomplished.  A major inclusion is House Greyjoy, whose power was hinted at in the previous book, A Game of Thrones, but even they - point-of-view character Theon aside - are firmly sidelined.

A case in point: one of the would-be Kings dies.  It's intimated how, but never described.  On one page is a parlay, the next sees one of the delegates back home with scant reason.  The claimant is dismissed quickly and without the care taken in describing his encampment, feasting tendencies or plans for a new Kingsguard.  Martin obvioulsy felt he needed to spend those words elsewhere. Given the book's length, it was a a merciful - if odd - decision.

courtesy: cybermage.se

That's not to say that Clash isn't a remarkable book.  Martin must be special if he's drawn in millions of readers with a series that evolves slower than we did from the fish.  He writes interesting characters - the Onion Knight, Davos Sukar, took my fancy - some of which are added to an already teeming cast of third-person narrators.  This multi-party narrative device expands the saga to involve much of the general public rather than the isolated groups which dominate other civil war recounts (eg. Star Wars - where every single important person in the galaxy is linked in somehow.  The prequels can go to hell).

Unfortunately, this also means that the reader feels as if they are marking time until getting back to a storyline in which the plot actually advances.  It makes for a disjointed read that isn't nearly as gripping as the first installment.


In  many ways, the remarkable world Martin has created - like Tolkien before him - is his greatest achievement and a rod for his own back.  While we learn more of the Seven Kingdoms, this is not matched by the activities of the major protagonists.  Each POV character seems to have one task to accomplish - to meet parlay, to journey to the Outlands, to prepare for battle or to escape.  Once this task is performed, they slide into obscurity.

War is made up of myriad finite, intricate moments which combine to form a much larger picture.  This makes for some interesting times and some ... quieter ones.  A Clash of Kings is certainly the latter.

Tennis balls.

Review - Tip Off - Filip Bondy

Tip Off isn't a bad book, but it's hard to get excited about.  In fact, a one-word review would simply be "meh".  Filip Bondy presents us with the equivalent of watching a player take a 17' jump shot when he could have dunked on three guys - it's just as effective and may even be the right play, but leaves the audience slightly underwhelmed.

This is a shame, because Bondy chose a fascinating topic: the 1984 NBA draft, which saw Michael Jordan, Hakeem Olajuwon, Sam Perkins, Charles Barkley and John Stockton arrive in professional basketball.  It also provided the backdrop for the most high-profile draft blunder in history, when Portland selected Kentucky center Sam Bowie instead of Jordan with the second overall pick.

It's a succinct read which touches on the leadup to the draft, what each team was thinking when making their selections and also a brief look at how each player fared.  There's little coming together of the players - of every player drafted, the book may as well be about the six guys listed above.  Nobody - well, nobody except the most hardened basketball-philes - wants to know Chicago's thinking behind taking NBL legend Butch Hays with a seventh-round pick, or the reasons that Indiana chose Charlotte legend Stuart Gray.

Bondy writes to get the facts out rather than to entertain.  It is well-researched and the author has obviously researched and interviewed broadly, which all serves a purpose but at times upsets the book's flow.  Each chapter focuses on one aspect of the draft process, be it Chicago or Houston allegedly tanking (leading to the institution of the draft lottery in 1985), the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics or Sam Perkins' background in upstate New York.  The result is that there are minimal shared experiences which takes away from the Draft's inherent maturation storyline.

The information is all there, but given the storied nature of that draft, the reader is left feeling as if they're in some way short changed and that perhaps a writer with a greater sense of the event may have made Tip Off  more enjoyable.  As it is, it's intriguing at times (did you know that Philadelphia offered Dr. J or Andrew Toney and the no. 5 pick for the no. 3 pick so they could take Jordan?) but labours with an invasive flatness.

A perfectly average read - making it tennis balls.

Review: Instruments of Darkness - Gary Russell

Gary Russell made me think!  No, really, he did a good thing!  279 pages weren't wasted!  It's a miracle!

Courtesy: doctorwhoreviews.co.uk

During his time writing Past Doctor Adventures, Russell made it a personal crusade to redeem the then-pilloried Sixth incarnation of the Time Lord, fleshing out the lurid continuity of the Colin Baker era.  First came Mel's official introductory story, Business Unusual - which I enjoyed - and eventually a real regeneration for Doc 6 in the form of the immortal Spiral Scratch.

It's campaigns like these that, despite the best of intentions, have earned Russell his reputation as a purveyor of the highest order of fanwank.

That said, however, despite myriad failings, Instruments of Darkness is a reasonable sequel to Business Unusual.

Irritations include a marginalised and relatively-poorly-characterised Doctor, reliance on continuity (although it's much better than some of the author's previous work), stylistic inconsistencies, dialogue peeled straight from the Star Wars prequels and Russell indulging his  Bond fetish.  Naming a pair of female assassins Ms de Menour and Ms (Mal) Feasance?  Inserting a piece about the Doctor introducing Fleming to the ornithologist on whom Bond was based?  The cult-series mix is simply too much for an admittedly-pulpy premise to bear.

But in spite of these elements, Russell deftly portrays a series of interconnected characters whose reliance upon each other is notable.  Throughout the text, couplets emerge where each member is completely dependent on the other - for existence, validation, love.  Even the Doctor is not immune as he encounters the companion that wasn't, Evelyn Smythe; and in fact only Mel appears immune.

This symbiosis is woven unobtrusively throughout and only it hits the reader with real force when it becomes apparent at the novel's conclusion.  It's sweetly juxtaposed with the climactic fireworks brought about by some old-school Doctor trickery reminiscent of Pyramids of Mars.

Tennis balls.

Discontinuity Guide's review of Instruments of Darkness

Review: In the Hornets' Nest - Joe Drape

The sheer sweaty bodyweight of beat writers attached to American sports teams makes books which chronicle one team's journey over an entire season relatively commonplace. It's not an original concept, and basketball teams lend themselves to these diaries more than most. The Jordan Rules, A Season on the Brink (by John Feinstein) and The Breaks of the Game are required reading for hoops fans.

In 1988-89, two season chronicles emerged simultaneously about compelling storylines at opposite ends of the NBA. The Franchise examined Jack McCloskey, the General Manager of the Championship-winning Detroit Pistons; the other, by Atlanta Journal-Constitution journalist Joe Drape, detailed the Charlotte Hornets' first NBA season. The result is In the Hornets' Nest.

Expansion is a gripping hook. There aren't many stories written about lousy teams, especially smaller-market ones. How often do you get a dynamic and in-depth record of building a franchise from the ground up?  In the Hornets' Nest should be a work of historical significance simply by existing; unfortunately it becomes a collection of beat-writer standards which don't do full justice to a fascinating period in the NBA's history.

New teams inherently offer plenty of angles, partly because the cast of characters is hungry and disparate, but also because – by design – they stink. Each member of an expansion team, administrator or player, has one goal: to do well enough to make money. When twenty characters all attempting to secure their individual futures are combined, an intriguing and rare set of pressures evolve; cataloguing individual and collective responses makes for fascinating reading.

This human element sells sports books.  Unfortunately, apart from boardroom machinations early and late, the personal element rarely comes through in Drape's book; this makes it feel insubstantial and perfunctory.  Watching an expansion team for the results is nonsensical; what matters are the foundations put in place for future success.  Perhaps because Charlotte's player base was so obviously transient it became difficult to see any individual improvement coming from any of their established players.

Photo courtesy: amazon.com

When a nascent organisation develops, a maturity story can be attached both to individual elements and the structure as a whole – there's always interest (and a market) for coming of age tales. This aspect is also disappointingly downplayed; the only figure to be treated to three full dimensions is George Shinn, the man least acquainted with pro basketball and also the man with the most to learn.

When executed poorly, attempts at documenting eight months of human interaction can become a series of individual portraits rather than a slow crystallisation of overall character. Unfortunately, rather than opting to "grow" the Hornets' staff over the course of the season, Drape inserted WYSIWYG potted character studies which are rarely referred to later. Despite their fascinating roles, GM Carl Scheer and coach Dick Harter are treated to the same three page allottment as backup point guard Muggsy Bogues.

While lightweight, the book rams home a few crucial differences between The Leagues of then and now. The typical late-80s pursuit of size – any size – is highlighted, resulting in career third-stringer Stuart Gray being written about more than even his Mum thinks he deserves. Also, there is an obvious lack of process and method about both coaching and personnel decisions. Harter's coaching philosophy often suggested that improvement couldn't come from within but from outside; oddly, but understandably, Drape's writing reflects the same tenor when it comes to individual and collective maturity.

There are frequent gaps. Three quarters of the book has passed before Drape mentions who the team's starting point guard was (it was the immortal Michael Holton) and what should have been the most interesting sections of all – the 1988 expansion draft and the 1988 NBA draft – barely rate a mention.

There's a beat-writer's style to Drape's writing. He is even-handed so much so that it could be mistaken for a lack of joy; the same could be said of the players and administrators: the only people to see the season as an experience rather than something to be endured before they could draft again. It's easy fodder for basketball fans.  Tennis Balls.

Review: The Twelve Caesars - Michael Grant

www.eveningstarbooks.info

Michael Grant was a noted twentieth century historian who focused predominantly upon the early Roman empire.  He published several well-regarded works on that culture in that period, including perhaps his seminal piece The Twelve Caesars.

This narrative, which leans heavily upon the usual suspects (Suetonius, Pliny and Tacitus) is a conversational textbook - a popular version of a book of learning, much like I, Claudius - very much in vogue throughout the latter half of last century.  It delivers a potted biography of Julius Caesar and his eleven direct replacements - from Augustus to Domitian.

As a work, it delivers simply what it suggests on the packet: small bios, pieced together from influential - but hardly neutral - sources.  Grant time and again points out that Suetonius tended to highlight the sexual depravities of his subjects, while Tactitus' words showed contempt for each of the three Caesars who rose to their position via civil war (Galba, Otho and Vitellius).  

He delivers simple, effective portraits of highly complex men - figures simplified by period literature through rumour and suggestions being made out as fact.  He is even-handed and resists editorialising, except for during the last chapter where he tries unsuccessfully to "sum up" and only manages to confuse himself and his readers.

Unfortunately, there really is very little else to say.  Grant writes as an academic, with economy of emotion, as if just putting words down on paper for future generations.  If you're interested in the period or a history buff, then it's certainly worth a look - otherwise the source material may prove a little dry.  Tennis balls.

Review: Death of Kings - Bernard Cornwell

Death of Kings is the sixth book in Cornwell's Saxon Tales, which chronicle the birth of England as a united land around the turn of the tenth century.  It is very much a case of "more of the same" by the author, who delivers one of his more workmanlike novels of his twenty-plus year career.

It goes without saying that Cornwell's research and ability to insert his characters into key points in history are excellent: it is what he does.  Steve Martin makes jokes, water is wet, sickness is not nice and Cornwell will compile immaculate situations, described well and totally contextual.  In fact, Death of Kings is so heavy in a major historical event that the storytelling actually suffers a little.

That event, the death of Alfred the Great and subsequent scrabble for the throne, sees the focus rest with the family of the only Saxon/English monarch to have the title "the Great".  That means that three so-far background characters - Alfred's sons Osferth and Edward as well as his nephew Aethelwold - occupy much of the foreground.

As the two sons play a role in the notional correct inheritance, they are afforded character development which really isn't present for many of the other characters.  Aethelflaed, obviously one of Cornwell's muses, has her role somewhat minimised, while the book's major protagonist Uhtred drives the plot as usual.  With the throne's occupancy somewhat unsettled, the storyline feels similarly transitory - a placemarker until the Saxons move forward into regaining territory lost to the Danish invasions.

The book does thaw of relations between Uhtred and Alfred while the latter lies upon his deathbed.  Despite five earlier episodes and both men over 40 (the middle-ages equivalent of 60 or more) their relationship of respect without liking each other had, as the characters, grown old.
Perhaps as a result of the rise in characters like Osferth in combination with the brutal and violent nature of military battles of the era, sees more of Uhtred's inner circle of warriors dying than for many years.  In the tenth century, warriors wouldn't live to their forties unless they were excellent/smart/lucky, so for Uhtred's cohort of men to make it through the past two books relatively unscathed is something of an anomaly.

While still engaging, Death of Kings lacks some of the easy congruency of the past three Saxon Tales, earning it a rating of tennis balls.

Review: Stardust - Neil Gaiman

Don't try and take a purposeful walk with Neil Gaiman.  It'll take forever, you'll stop and smell myriad roses and probably end up never getting where you want.  In short, you'll meander, often simply for the sake of it, and he'll keep your attention for a while, but often be left feeling that the whole exercise was pointless.

The journey can be the reward ... but sometimes that reward is unsatisfying and annoying.

I've tried, wanted, to like Gaiman now - two times - and failed.

Stardust is one of my all-time favourite movies.  It's certainly got to be right up there - it features a predictably callow youth coming of age story, plenty of imaginative fight scenes, a strong - climactic - ending, wonderful sense of humour and  features all of Dexter Fletcher, De Niro, Ricky Gervais, Jason Flemyng, Mark Strong, Michelle Pfeiffer, a chick from Coupling and Claire Danes. 

Yes, Fletcher is listed first because he was in one of my kiddie favourites (Press Gang) and Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.  Perhaps that's where the disconnect occurs: the producer of that seminal modern East-end gangster film was Matthew Vaughn, who directs the feature version of Stardust.  He obtained its rights at no cost from Gaiman, who thought he could do a good job in bringing it to life.  It turns out I like Matthew Vaughn's work a lot more than Neil Gaiman's.  This is one of those rare movies where it exceeds the work from which it grew.

http://englishmajorjunkfood.com/

Gaiman's version reads much the same as the first two thirds of the movie, but with the author's typical homespun feel.  While, alongside his delicate, graceful prose, this ability to create believable, real-world fantasies stands as (in my opinion) his greatest skill, this realism doesn't translate through to a big-screen fantasy.  Celluloid, for obvious reasons, plays up popular emotions like love, romance, intrigue and adventure.  Gaiman's style is to do quite the opposite, creating an interesting world with complex, engaging characters motivated by "real" human emotions.

The result is that the novel enchants you for the first sixty pages, then continues and finally peters out with about thirty pages remaining.  There isn't so much a climax, as a slow recession into nothingness like an old man trying to vocalise lost thoughts.  It's not bad, and quite enjoyable, but leaves the reader somewhat disappointed at the lack of climax.  It doesn't feel like it's missing a sword fight, or a great happy ending; just that the final pages see a bunch of interminable meandering, as life would generally provide.

Unfortunately, Gaiman is writing (mostly, up to this point, very well) a fantasy.  We don't want real-world finishes, or at least, I don't.  I want an inventive solution which isn't a deux ex machina.  Gaiman creates wonderful starts, beautiful situations, yet Stardust only strengthened a burgeoning belief that this is his forte, rather than pursuing a narrative.  Tennis balls.

Review: Sheilas, Wogs and Poofters - Johnny Warren

This is my second foray into Australian soccer literature, the first having been less than impressive. The good news is that the now 10 year old 'Sheilas, Wogs and Poofters' by the late Johnny Warren is far better, the bad news is that Warren fell into the standard traps of all passionate Australian soccer figures.

Warren had an amazing playing career for someone growing up in Australian during the 1950's where soccer was third or fourth on the list of priorities for most young men (particularly Anglo ones such as Warren). As is fairly portrayed by Warren's title, a fair amount of tasteless stigma was also labelled at those playing the game.

Given the options available to Warren he managed to forge a club and international career that deserves celebration. Representing the St George (Budapest) club with great distinction Warren no doubt had to prove himself able to transcend ethnic boundaries; 40 odd matches for Australia (including the 1974 World Cup) showed much dedication at a time when it was hardly a glamourous lifestyle.

The matches the Australian team of the late 1960's and early 1970's deserve legendary status, not just for the achievements of the team but for the scenarios in which they played. The Friendly Nations cup played as an olive branch to the Vietnamese people by the Western anti-communist forces is an amazing tale for the conditions (warfare) that the tournament was played within. As well Warren eulogises on some of his contemporaries who should receive more credit for their skills by those who believe that legendary status in Australian soccer began with Viduka and Kewell et al.

For the non devoted supporter of soccer in Australia there are two general criticisms that can be labelled at the sport in this country. Number one is that it is constantly racked with in fighting and controversy. Number two is that the sport needs to learn to stand on its own two feet and fight for its place in the landscape; rather it constantly complains about the level of media coverage afforded Australian Football or Rugby League over itself. Warren in the last third of the book spirals violently into into these two criticisms and never recovers. If those in charge of the sport believe it is the best sport then they need to rise above arguing internally or complaining about the competition and simply produce a product that attracts the masses.

Recommend this book for a read and a good summary history of the sport in Australia and an interesting life story that is at the same time stereotypically Australian, but also very different from your usual sporting heroes. Tennis Balls.

Cover image thanks to amazon.com.au

Review: Original Sin - Andy Lane

Original Sin provided some interesting twists for Virgin series of Doctor Who New Adventures.  It features one of the Original Series' finest baddies and was the second time in that series that the Doctor took a new companion(s) onto the TARDIS.  The nature of these two new companions - Adjudicators Roz Forrester and Chris Cwej - then provided new enlightenment into the dystopian future that the NA authors loved so well.

The New Adventures carried on - at least initially - Sylvester McCoy's mysterious portrayal of the Doctor, the dark, cryptic Time Lord who served as "Time's Champion".  Because Original Sin takes place directly after that arc's key story Human Nature - where the Doctor becomes more aware of his actions' ramifications on his human friends, and thus less mysterious - the characterisation of the Doctor is very much of a likeable, but knowledgeable imp.  Newbies Cwej and Forrester are interesting and likeable enough, with Forrester particularly having the kind of emotional baggage that made Who writers in the mid-90s salivate.  While Benny - the most consistently drawn character in the entire Virgin NA series - is understandably her usual self, for a change there are actually some minor characters worth noting - in this case, the insane Doctor Zebulon Pryce.

However, it is in the characterisation of the chief villain that I was most disappointed.  Without revealing too much, he is maniacal rather than megalomanic, unhinged rather than calculating and desperate when opportunistic is much more to established type.  Personally, I don't mind when "Greatest Hits" bad guys are brought back, but prefer to see them written as they were in their original appearance: to be believable, they must command the same consistency as we expect from portrayals of the Doctor and his buddies.

Original Sin recreates a fondly-remembered bad guy simply because the author could, and then credits him as being behind the scenes of several high-profile Who enemies.  To do so partially and needlessly negates seminal stories such as Robot and, *cough* Invasion of the Dinosaurs.  Given lackadaisical characterisation and throwaway continuity, the book would have been better served with a new adversary.

Courtesy: en.wikipedia.org

As we've noted here before, much of early 90s Who was written by fans.  This brought with it good and bad points - the series was in the hands of people who genuinely cared about its direction, but given six-book story arcs and the occasional slavish reliance on continuity, the series became less accessible to the casual reader.  Who fans enjoy and relish the series history, but to become dependent on it - as the series itself did in the early '80s (thank you, Ian Levine) - is fanboy folly.  That those fanboys were apparently all devotees of William Gibson and Alan Moore is painfully apparent.

Occasionally, references to continuity were thrown in because they seemed like a good idea at the time (as in this case); became major characters (Irving Braxiatel) and sometimes were the premise of entire story arcs.   

Unfortunately, Original Sin is one of these novels where continuity becomes a major point in an otherwise quite open and intriguing plot.  There are several plot holes - especially a critical one concerning the impracticalities of the returning villain's far-reaching robot control - and some knowledge of Who's Earth Empire is required to fully understand the context of the novel.  Lane's writing style is interesting, but fails to fully engage the reader.  This means that with the undercurrent of technological terms (and complex Hith names that must be filed under "Seemed like a good idea at the time") at times makes progress hard slog.

In toto, the book seems as if Lane had a series of good ideas which were only tenuously connected and threw them together to create a novel which, while working, doesn't thrive.  It's a worthwhile read - if only to meet the new guys Cwej and Forrester - but feels like it should be more than it is.

Tennis Balls.

For more Doctor Who reviews, visit Who. Reviewed.

Review: Soul Cravings – Erwin Raphael McManus

This work is an apologetic that assumes acceptance of the idea that the totality of faith is greater than the sum of its parts. Therefore what characterise it as being different from usual apologetics is that it does not seek to be reductionist with faith. Reductionist techniques seek to provide a response to questions and objections of the secular world; faith to McManus is the greatest longing of the human soul, spirit, emotion, mentality, and this is where he begins and grows his exposition of faith.

The book is written in four movements of journal entries under headings of 'Cravings', 'Destiny', 'Meaning' and finally 'Seek'. The book is not difficult to read, and flows easily in conversational style.

It took this reader two thirds of the work to begin to gain much from it. This bothered to a great extent and despite good willed intentions of the writer it looked as though this book was going to be ranked lower rather than higher. But as it was further read, the work began to open up my mind and soul and to recognise that when reading an emotive exploration one must accept that it cannot speak to every person all the time.

Through reading over the book you may need to reapply known learnings and already held understandings but eventually you will find a gem that grows you further. It was only in the fourth movement, its title 'Seek' in hindsight speaks exactly to this, the purpose of book became clear. The book is to encourage journeying in faith, if you have not yet begun it tells you to get started, if you have been a believer for a lifetime it tells you to keep searching and not be satiated with where your understanding is.

There is one major weakness. For the purposes of this work the level use of scripture quotations is appropriate, however I believe McManus does let himself down in trying to meet his objectives by quoting far too many philosophical statements. Statements requiring the reader to be either highly educated in niche topics such as classic literature, philosophy and history or be alienated by the work. When you are trying to appeal to the inner being of everyone, such alienation could be fatal to their continued reading.

Tangible apologetics of someone like Lee Strobel, where objectivity is prided and designed to respond to known objections are provided, remain required; however such a work does sit neatly beside reminding you that even though you may know everything, by definition God is God and always going to greater than human understanding. But you can still have faith, according to McManus, without answer to every question because your inner being wants it so much. Tennis Balls.

Cover Image thanks to bookdepository.co.uk

Review: Future King by Larry Pontius

Did you ever see the movie Air Force One?  The one where Harrison Ford plays the US President whose plane is kidnapped by terrorists. Being an average movie, he - in the words of IMDb - works from hiding to defeat them.

Courtesy: Amazon.com

In his book Future King, former Disney executive Larry Pontius essentially channels this 1997 movie in his sequel to T.H. White's The Once and Future King.  The generically power-mad politician orders the kidnap of King Charles and his Queen Consort Camilla, only for the impish scamp Prince Harry, Merlyn and King Arthur to come to his rescue.

Let's break this down, slowly.  And I'll put it in bold text just to emphasize the stones Pontius has displayed in doing so - he turns Prince Charles into an action hero - complete with witty catchphrases!  Charles brandishes a 9mm assault rifle, gives "a tramp" the finger and also engages in repeated saucy banter with Camilla.


It goes without saying that this isn't, strictly speaking, a sequel.  It uses some of the same characters, but the tone and style is so markedly different that there really isn't a comparison which pays appropriate justice to both this work and its inspiration. 

It's essentially an engaging action thriller in which characterization of the royal family is a complete work of fiction.  In fairness however, such Royal personality (if any exists) must be inserted either through surgical or imaginative means.  Pontius is obviously bound - to set the novel any further forward in time means for difficulty painting a believable future landscape.  However, it would also allow for completely fictional protagonists rather than inserting real people who may be delivering ill-fitting lines.

The pages will keep turning.  You're never sure what to expect on the next page, aside from the occasional familiar set piece.  Future King is an amusing read. Tennis Balls.

Review: Killing Rommel, by Steven Pressfield

Steven Pressfield has built an impressive folio of historical fiction works: The Legend of Bagger Vance achieved him notoriety in the movie world, while his novel The Gates of Fire has become almost required reading for the US Marine Corps.  To paraphrase former Doctor Who script editor Terrance Dicks  - "Selling out storyline for a pot of historical reality" is not what Pressfield's about.

His novel Killing Rommel is, much like the war in the desert, gritty, realistic and slightly overglorified.

Of all the Generals of World War Two, Field Marshal Erwin Rommel was probably the most respected by both sides.  He was close to the Fuhrer, displayed bravery and leadership beyond that of many other generals and a respect for the rules of war that others in his position failed to emulate.  He was also, alongside Patton, the most awe-inspiring General, manning a staff car alongside the advance ranks of his men rather than being secreted far behind.

He was also a Nazi.

Given Pressfield's willingness to sacrifice some plot aspects for storyline, he pitches the Long Range Desert Group - a group of British and New Zealanders in trucks - in a series of long-range missions aimed at demotivating their German and Italian opponents by assassinating their inspiring leader.  Who, in this universe, isn't a Nazi and displays a code of honour that even Judge Judy couldn't match.

courtesy: tower.com

Occasional historical dalliances aside, the greatest failing of the book is in the mechanism of the narrative.  It is pitched in the time-honoured style of  "a manuscript discovered"; in this case an American who's adapted a memoir bequeathed to to him by a mentor who was an English member of the LRDG.  Pressfield's talent is for describing real-life battles and their consequences, not for understanding "Britishness", resulting in overuse of phrases and hackneyed British stereotypes.

However, he more than almost any other historical fiction author, fully allows the reader to grasp the combination of the vital importance of the North African campaign, the gravity of dying comrades and the incredible comradeship found amongst men on the battlefield.  Pressfield attempts to take his readers of a journey of what it meant to be part of a force comprised of individuals but larger than the the sum of those people.  It is unfortunate that he doesn't completely succeed.

While not an exciting, compelling read, Killing Rommel is enjoyable and can be ploughed through quickly.  It also has it's share of poignant moments strewn amongst intimate descriptions of battle.  Tennis balls.

Review: The Stainless Steel Rat Returns - Harry Harrison

When you're a doyen of science fiction and created one of the genre's all-time heroes, eighty-six years old and splitting time between the US, Ireland and England you can afford to be a little cynical. It is so with Harry Harrison and the latest installment of the Stainless Steel Rat series, The Stainless Steel Rat Returns.

Slippery Jim DiGriz has retired and is living on a pleasure planet when the novel opens only to have his dream life shattered by the arrival of relatives who need financial help. DiGriz watches as his hard-stolen nestegg percolates into an abyss - or an enormous spaceship. It's not bad premise - but far from Harry Harrison's strongest - and has the strong ring of autobiographical content. The DiGriz family's adventures are then used to take aim at some of the US & Britain's exclusionist immigration policies.

Harrison's reputation as writing the Rat as the thinking man's space hero is well founded. As, apparently, are his liberal principles which, while laudable in their attempts often become a little obtrusive throughout the text. That this is his first novel in nearly a decade means the satire for which he earned his reputation isn't so much an undertone but coats thickly nearly every scenario. In several other of the series' books subtle sociopolitical commentary is identifiable and makes the reader smile but with this perhaps final chapter in the life of the Rat (whose age is indeterminate here) all that comes to mind is "Again, Harry"?

It's hardly the place of a younger man such as I to question vigorously a legend of the field. With his deserved reputation for being one of the pre-eminent satirists in the field for over fifty years, he deserves the benefit of any doubt - perhaps he feels the picture needs to be painted in such green-and-white terms (read the book and you'll get the green/white rather than black/white reference).

In many places Harrison appears to be writing on an subconscious autopilot system evolving over sixty-plus years. This is a shame considering his remarkable talent to quickly and easily describe fanciful plot points and makes the text sluggish. His ability created eminently readable, enjoyable and, though dealing often with darker topics, lightweight tales. It's not the case in this book and it's the only SSR novel I've had to push myself to finish. Maybe this is a result of the author's changing perspective as he (and the Rat) mature to an age with which I struggle to identify. Considering how much I respect his body of work and loved the prior Rat novels, I want this to be a failing of mine rather than of the author. As a pioneer of SF, I don't even want to consider it's a marker that Harrison's skill with the word has eroded.

The Stainless Steel Rat Returns could well be the coda to Harrison's work with his most famous creation. Like other science-fiction series (cf. the Star Wars saga, Tennant-era Who, The Next Generation movies), it could prove a marginally satisfying - if slightly disappointing - conclusion. Tennis balls.

Cover Image courtesy: thenonreview.com; of Harry Harrison courtesy: en.wikipedia.org

Review: And another thing... - Eoin Colfer

Perhaps Douglas Adams' greatest gift was for procrastination. Which created perhaps his greatest literary gift - an ability to create expansive, rambling narratives which both entertained and advanced the plot (mostly); mostly composed over hours of switch-on, switch-off composition. His legendary ability to achieve minimal results in maximum time abruptly ended the first Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy novel when his publishers literally said "Finish the current chapter and submit it". That he was able to draw the strings together on such long-winded expanses of prose after his short attention span was distracted by coffee, his Mac or even a passing butterfly was not only a gift but random acts of genius.

Eoin Colfer - he of the Artemis Fowl series - evidently has the same ability to ramble. However his contribution to the Hitchhikers' multiverse unfortunately loses steam and becomes less charming and more rambling as it proceeds. Undoubtedly a wonderful writer, Colfer turns phrases easily and thoughtfully, a quality which makes him a reasonable choice as H2G2 writing supremo. However, Douglas Adams had a remarkable knack of being able to knit a plot around his tangential observations that Colfer somehow lacks - you feel as if you are either reading a paragraph aimed at advancing the plot, or one aimed at making the reader snigger. While he's attempted quite successfully to mimic Adams' style, by the half way point many sequences have become interminable you realise the best characters, ideas and plotting were all Adams'.

This results in a book which feels awfully like the Star Wars prequels (ouch!) - the best ideas were the original ones and new "gimmicks" mostly fall flat. When riffing from the chords that Adams laid down, it's punchy and quite amusing. The premise (and plot) of the book is relatively clear - and remarkably straightforward for H2G2 - and Colfer's prosaic nous is evident throughout, the work lags badly and eventually becomes burdensome.

That's not to say it's a bad book, but it feels like Colfer began by encouraging lightning to strike twice (or for a sixth time) and ends with his realisation that no-one can really write like Douglas Adams. Like other artists of the twentieth century - Adams' contemporary Graham Chapman, for example - he will be imitated but it's best to go your own direction with established characters. As an example - have you ever tried to write in someone else's style? It's hard. And apparently gets harder as you plug on through 273 pages.

Having not read any of Artemis Fowl I wasn't sure what to expect of the work, or my beloved H2G2 multiverse. You can't copy inspiration and expect the same results. Like Doctor Who after Russell T. Davies and The West Wing after Sorkin it's best to go in a different direction rather than using creative types with talents in different areas. It's a brave attempt and doesn't reflect badly on Colfer, but doesn't shine like Adams. In a word: expected.

Hitchhikers' fans should still read And Another Thing... but do so prepared to be left flat. First half tennis balls, second half golf balls.

Cover image courtesy: forbiddenplanet.co.uk

Review: The Willow Wand – Derek Birley

The Willow Wand's aim is to explore some of the many myths of cricket. However, for the most part it is somewhat difficult to identify truly what myth is at any one point that being investigated. One must have an in-depth knowledge of cricket and indeed English cricket to truly take in what most of Birley has to say. Despite the significant amount of historical research put into this work, it does not provide a systematic presentation of cricketing history.

But this is not meant to be a negative opinion, just a reduction in the expectations with which I approached this work. What you do get from The Willow Wand is a mosaic of characters and time from throughout the long and rich history of the sport.

The book drives constantly that cricket is a medium in which persons sought to prove distinguishable features. Gentlemen from Players (Amateurs from Professionals), Wealth from Poverty, light skin from dark – none ever proved to be successful and in hindsight all actions of the sort proving petty and hypocritical. Such is the ridiculous extent of sociology that cricket has been pushed and pulled. Birley took time to sum up his beliefs in the final chapter titled 'Fun and Games' whereupon as you might expect from the title he concludes that one cannot see cricket through any other lens.

Refreshingly honest about the figures of the past, Birley does not airbrush over the faults of the game and its traditions. He questions long held views of the cricketing figures of the past such as Lord's Harris & Hawke as well as P.F. (Plum) Warner; opinion on the latter he makes reference to in his updated edition as drawing criticism from some parts upon the books initial print run in 1979.

Of particular enjoyment personally were his descriptions of West Indian crickets background, a topic not often broached, as well as his discussion on whether cricket and art can be stated as being one and the same. For the modern cricket enthusiast stung by the increased commercialism and descent into the abyss of gambling-driven corruption it may hurt to read that the prominent driver of many of the earliest recorded matches was commercialism and gambling. Matches were often fixed not for monetary gain but as an act of patronage to the amateur dignitary!

Being a cricketing nerd, I enjoyed the book as I became immersed in the nostalgia and dreamed of being involved during golden times in cricket history. But it is only a book for those like myself who bring a certain level of background knowledge to it and can enjoy it to the full. Others will become confused and frustrated as it constantly switches back and forth between stories, eras and personalities. The high English used by Birley remains difficult for the modern reader (criticism at this point can be leveled in both directions) - Birley is clearly a man of an age where cricketers of the right ilk never had names, only initials. Somewhere between tennis balls and footballs.

Cover Image thanks to bookdepository.co.uk

Review: The Golden Compass, by Philip Pullman

The Golden Compass, as a movie, bombed. As a book, it was much more well-received adnn the appeal is obvious. The question really is - as with many movie adaptations - why it was indeed made into a movie at all: as a scene setter to the His Dark Materials trilogy, it serves its purpose as just that: a table-setter. As a self-contained novel, however, it lacks a certain je ne sais quoi. Perhaps this is a direct function of it's status as a children's novel (Classic? It's now 15 years old). Along with Harry Potter, it's regarded as one of the great teen novels of the past twenty years.

Perhaps as a result of this -or a change in Panatlantic vocabularies - The Golden Compass is known in the United States as "The Golden Compass", rather than it's English title "The Northern Lights". It's a strange decision, really, considering the only compass-like object referred to is the heroine's mysterious alethiometer.

Set in a parallel world, the similarities the Potterverse are obvious: there is a child hero (Lyra) whose destiny is important for the future of the entire world. Adults are aware of this while the child remains unaware, meaning the only adults that are trustworthy are antiestablishment figures: gypsies, witches and daemons, the ever-present animal companions of humans. This obvious lack of tustworthiness means for dark undertones beneath a children's fantasy.

The greatest difference between Pullman and Rowling is how easy the plot is to decipher. In the first chapter, certain words are use which can mean - perhaps to the inquiring mind, perhaps not - only one thing. How that affects the characters is also easy to read. Whereas Harry Potter is aware of his special nature and the readers are left to discover at the same time as the main protagonists how that plays out, Lyra is an unencumbered (relatively) free spirit, not weighed down with the responsibilities of the world, but acutely aware of right and wrong: we also pick up enough early to realise just what the mysterious Mrs. Coulter is up to.

Although easy to plough through, there are few characters with whom you can empathise, a reality faced when adults read fiction involving child heroes - but Pullman doesn`t rely on teen angst like Rowling (how many fights did Harry have with Ron? I hope it irritated you as much as me? Hmm. How do I add another layer and 50 pages to "The Deathly Hallows". I know, I'll make Ron and Harry get aggro at each other. Again! 15 billion pounds can't be wrong, can it?" Completely failing to realise that we didn't really care how good HP: TDH was, just that we wanted to see what happened at the end. Side-tirade on JK Rowling is now finished. Probably.) but is obviously enamoured with making Lyra as resilient as kids generally are under stress. Where adults fail to deal with things emotionally, kids are often able but mostly at terrible cost to their futures.

The only characters fully coloured are Lyra and the witch-queen Serafina Pekkala, the rest two-dimensional which makes empathy even tougher. The best stories allow you to relate to the characters or at least identify with their motives. By choosing to make his heroine prepubescent, Pullman - I hope consciously - withdraws an element of identification and simply concentrates on his story, which is bound by fundamental creationism, a Neal Stephenson-type Royal Society science and the relationship between Lyra and her two best friends, her daemon Pantalaimon and the Armoured Bear, Iorek Byrnison. As we said earlier - fantasy books in a series work best when they are able to be read in a self-contained way, and take or leave the series. The Potterverse was wonderful in this way over the first four tomes, where Pullman seems to be drawing readers in simply to be able to expand his story later.

And let's not forget perhaps the most fundamental plot flaw I've seen since watching episodes of Eureka - the alethiometer should make Lyra omniscient. Surely omniscience should allow the heroine to plan things and know the outcome of those plans before even putting them into practice? Following that reasoning, the work should end after Lyra learns to interpret the symbol reader well - after about 150 pages.

I can't recommend it, but it wasn't bad either. Tennis balls. Just.
Cover image courtesy: avclub.com. We recommend their blog "Book vs. Film".

Review: Slick Watts' Seattle SuperSonic Stories, by Slick Watts and Frank Hughes

A re-post from our bro site Balanced Sports.

Having just moved to Seattle, being somewhat of an NBA history-phile and having just joined the public library, I was intrigued to come across Slick Watts' Seattle SuperSonic Stories. The work is a collection of anecdotes by Slick Watts, who during the seventies was the most popular athlete in the state of Washington. They even made him Grand Marshal of of the Sea King. Twice. Not sure what that means, but he's pretty chuffed about it. It's a short, ninety-minute long read about Bad Old Times of the NBA - the 1970s - where public perception of the league was that it was populated by overpaid, oversexed and overcoked players.

Perhaps the best thing about Watts' story is that it isn't overdone in any way, an admirable trait considering sporting autobiographies are invariably either overplay the grittiness or are too self-congratulatory. In this work - one of a series of Player X's Team Y Stories - he includes several references to his on-court play, yet just as much to team dynamics, his relationship with his coaches and how he became so iconic.

The first player ever to rock the baldie and headband, the writing style matches the way Watts' played - a series of short anecdotes, herky-jerky and with really only the bare facts laid out on paper. He doesn't delve too deep into any one particular issue or relive too many moments on court, just seems to shell out featherweight anecdotes like he's finding shooters in the corners; like Slick's play it's inconsistent and has several holes and lacks depth of context. This is an autobiography, so tunnel vision is forgiveable, but not when it leaves the reader asking if there's a bigger picture that we're not seeing.

He devotes an entire chapter to his first NBA coach, Bill Russell. He's honest about the Celtic great, suggesting him a poor coach with an alpha-dog mentality. This attitude meant he was unable to cope with popular players, often benching them simply for being popular enough to overshadow the great Russell. His words "I had a love/hate relationship with Russ. Most players had a hate/hate relationship with him" are particularly telling and fits in with what I've read previously about Russ:confirming once and for all his place as sport's greatest ever a***hole (and that's against some pretty stiff competition - I've met Dean Jones).

Describing his time in Seattle and with Russell - who coached Watts for four seasons - takes up a fair amount of his meagre word count. During his tenure with the organisation, he played with ABA expats Jim McDaniels, John Brisker and Spencer Haywood as well as some Seattle greats like "Downtown" Freddie Brown and Jack Sikma. Unfortunately you get very little detail about any of these guys, few character pieces and are left only with the feeling that some probably should have had to work in order to stick as Watts did rather than being guaranteed their money.

What's more interesting is his description of how and why he became such a marketing boon to the organisation Simply, Slick Watts is a friendly, outgoing guy who reflects well on first, second and forty-fifth meetings. He doesn't come out and say so in the book, but it's easy to infer that he just likes people and enjoys being around others. The average NBA player in the 1970s had to make three personal appearances per year. In 1977, Slick Watts made over three hundred and was simply unable to say no to anyone who asked him for help - it was an attitude like that which earned him Two Sea King Grand Marshal gongs.

After Russell was replaced by Bob Hopkins and then Lenny Wilkens, the book takes a sharp turn as Wilkens decided that Watts didn't fit his mould, subsequently trading him to New Orleans. Watts details Wilkens saying "There isn't room in town for the both of us", supporting his argument that Wilkens has never been a good coach of "stars". Unfortunately here's where poetic licence comes in - Watts was a good player, but never even approached great with major fundamental flaws like defense and shooting - and while it's true Wilkens got the best out of rosters without superduperstar talent and history says that after the trade in 1977-78, the Sonics went to the NBA Finals and won the Championship the following year.

You can tell even though he's honest, happy and forthright, he still hasn't fully come to terms with being traded to basketball purgatory from a city he practically owned. Bitter isn't the right word at all - he's still the happy, go-lucky Slick - but the reader's left thinking that perhaps it just was the right mix of player, team, city and personality which would be impossible to recreate anywhere else. Given Watts has moved back to Seattle and teaches physical education to primary school kids, the affinity he has for the city is obvious and pleasing to read. After his Seattle departure the book falls away as quickly as Slick's NBA career did. He was King of Seattle in 1977; out of the league by 1980.

Entertaining, especially for basketball history buffs, but ultimately Slick Watts' Seattle SuperSonic Stories is a lightweight piece suited for an easy Sunday afternoon's reading. As usual, the best tales are about ABA expats (in this case Jim McDaniels and John Brisker). The final, definitive lesson to take from Slick's first entry into authordom: Bill Russell was, and probably always will be, a tool of the first water. Tennis Balls.

Images courtesy yahoo.com and betterworldbooks.com

Review: Encounters that Changed the World, by Rodney Castleden

In Encounters that Changed the World, Rodney Castleden has constructed a highly informative summary of some of the most influential meetings of the past without also getting too "history-heavy". Arranged neither by significance, date or location, he allows for easy passage through a sizeable tome by categorizing each encounter by the type of meeting: the book begins with nine "Encounters with God" and concludes with "Great Creative Encounters of the 20th Century". Each encounter ranges between four and eight pages which allows for plenty of context and relevance yet is succinct enough to allow the reader to decide the importance of each encounter.

Another enjoyable aspect is the global perspective the author's attempted to capture. This book isn't America-, England or Christian-centric, but takes in a wide variety of people, places, religions and races and none is given any more weight than another. It stands to reason that fleeting encounters - say, Newton and Leibnitz - are given fewer words, as are those comings together about which history has recorded little, as in the case of Marco Polo and Kublai Khan. I can understand how frustrating it may be to print undeniable, recorded fact at the expense of mountains of hearsay, but it is this restraint which makes this book so educational.

Though it runs to 500-plus pages, Encounters is a surprisingly easy read, broken up into bite-size chunks of the past and larger, meal-size portions which one is easily able to read in one sitting. It provides just enough detail to satisfy the curiosity without overloading one with weighty background. Recommended - tennis balls.

Image courtesy www.amazon.co.uk

Review: Riding the Rap by Elmore Leonard

Elmore Leonard writes crime thrillers like no-one's business. It's what he does. You may not have read him, but you'd know his works: Get Shorty, Be Cool, Out of Sight, Jackie Brown and 3:10 to Yuma are all films adapted from his works. And now at 85 he hasn't eased into retirement but maintained a keen ear for the patois that sharps, shylocks, grifters and bad guys use. Riding the Rap (though published before Out of Sight) only confirms his reputation from prior works: the man can tell a story.

There are several continuities between many of his novels. It's strange a lot of his stories take place in Florida given Leonard himself is a Detroit native and bears the reputation as that city's "Dickens": as in Out of Sight, Get Shorty and Riding's predecessor Pronto, Florida features heavily in the narrative. And like many of his other works, Riding features bumbling crooks with a simple plan which gets twisted and are forced to improvise. It's been said none of Leonard's characters are ever truly "good" guys - all have dark sides - and this rings true here; but like his most famous creations Chili Palmer and Karen Sisco, the main source for good is an implacable, indomitable hero exuding control and menace without outwardly trying.

It's not formulaic, but neither does it have the charm which made Get Shorty such a readable book, nor the humour and balance which appealed in Be Cool (believe it or not, the movie didn't do justice to the novel). Character identification is tough in many of Leonard's novels as - personally speaking anyway - I don't know any US Marshalls, Puerto Rican ex-cons, psychics, Arabian Bahamians or 50-year old stoners. That doesn't matter though, because even though it's difficult to like any of the characters, they are believable and each comes with their own form of dialogue, diction and most crucially, motives. Perhaps the author's greatest ability is making readers believe that even though his characters are pastiches, real people are out there just like them - smart and fiery, cool and calculating or just plain dumb. Smart readers will have to deal with premonitions of the ending well before you reach it, but the pages keep turning nonetheless.

Riding the Rap by Elmore Leonard: not his best work, but still very enjoyable, meaning it scores Tennis balls.

Image courtesy of angusrobertson.com.au

Review: First Among Equals - Jeffrey Archer

If it could possibly be measured, a scale of 'fervency' in viewers of television programs would probably render Aaron Sorkin's 'The West Wing' at the pointy end. I personally enjoyed every episode of the seven seasons that were produced so much that I can be sure I have watched each at least twice. Others I know outstrip this by a long way. But despite its quality as a television program I believe it has done some damage to the psyche of Australian generation Y who seem convinced on applying 'learnings' from the show to Australian politics. While I still believe it to be a tremendous show, operationally and ideologically the political systems of Australia and the USA are vastly different.

So what is my purpose in describing the above within a book review? Well I offer to you that 'First Among Equals' is logically a complementary read for the politically minded generation Y, and that in describing the United Kingdom's Westminster system of government they will become more rounded in their knowledge of the Australian political scene. Of course this assumes outright aversion to reading any non-fiction text on political systems – a perusal of such will render 'knowledge' obtained via television and fictional works second best.

Archer is one of the masters of the fast moving, page turning plot and the ability to intertwine the stories of multiple seemingly unrelated characters together. Because of the focus on the plot at the expense of scene description, all of Archer's books tend to be timeless. This particular work was first published in 1984 and has not dated. Even his use of actual political figures of the time as characters can be accepted in reading the story as he could have used fictional names without detriment.

The book revolves around four ambitious men from different backgrounds and different political viewpoints (although two each sit on either side of the political spectrum). These men all enter parliament at the same moment and Archer (himself a former political figure) describes each of their individual struggles, weaknesses, successes and failures as they strive in their political careers. Ultimately as the books title suggests, (First Among Equals is a common description for leaders of democratically elected governments), the attainment of Prime Ministership is foremost on each mind.

Each of these men the reader finds has distinctively endearing qualities, as well as fallibilities, therefore despite what pre-conceived political ideologies a reader may bring they may find themselves desiring the ascension at a point in the book of any one of the characters. Don't misunderstand, by no means is this book a heavy character psychological analysis, it is not. What it is though is a 'fly over' of what a professional (and personal) life may look like for ambitious politicians.

My personal favourite character is Charles Seymour who, because fate determined he was the second born of twins, misses out on noble birthright. From a character seemingly bitter about these events, and hell bent on living the nobleman’s life to begin with despite fate, the ups and downs of his political career determine changes in character for Seymour by books end.

Archer knows his audience, and he writes for them rather than indulging in experimentation. All of his books are aimed at being an enjoyable read for his audience; he is not seeking to make worldly comment behind a fictional story either. He is a storyteller pure and simple. That Mills and Boon create escapist worlds for lovelorn females, Archer and similar authors do similar for ambitious men, and maybe educating them a little as well.

Not an absolute must for the literary devotee, but a good read nonetheless – Tennis Balls.

Cover Image courtesy of www.angusandrobertson.com.au