Critical Myth-Interpretations

This is the second book of the “Totality” trilogy, set firmly within the “Shatnerverse” conception of the Trek franchise.  In particular, this book follows both “Captain’s Peril” and “Star Trek: Nemesis”, which is quite an interesting trick.  Ultimately, it becomes clear that the first book of the trilogy was meant as an introduction to the authors’ attempt to reconcile so many of the continuity issues from “Nemesis”.

Since the Shatnerverse is effectively an “alternate universe”, set within the larger legendary spectrum of the Trek mythos, the authors are free to absorb ideas from other novels, such as the nature of the two Romulan homeworlds (very similar to the concepts in the “Vulcan’s Soul” trilogy).  On a certain level, this is an example of one myth informing another, which is interesting in its own right.

This novel presents one interpretation of Romulan/Reman society, a class-driven conflict that has been infiltrated and influenced by Norinda, the mysteriously and overwhelmingly sensual alien from the first book in the trilogy.  Making sense of the elements of “Nemesis” is a large part of the novel, and to a certain extent, that takes something away from the story.  It’s a lot better than the film itself, especially in terms of explaining what actually happened with Shinzon, but only so much can be done with a horrible plot device.

Which leads to the other main weakness of the book: the use of “Spock dies!” for shock value.  The authors don’t try to hide the fact that Spock survives his apparent assassination, to their credit, but there’s never a moment where the characters’ belief in his death feels genuine.  Also, once again, Kirk seems to be given a moral superiority over the rest of the universe, especially Starfleet.  This is to be expected, but it does seem to place the rest of the cast on an unfair disadvantage.

Finally, ever since the entrance of Joseph to the overall Shatnerverse, Kirk’s character has been held back by his overwhelming need to protect his child.  At times, this can be an interesting dilemma for Kirk: the needs of the many vs. the needs of the one.  But all too often, it falls into the same storytelling trap that any “baby plot” encounters: Joseph becomes an object to be used against Kirk.  Joseph’s nature also seems designed to be the perfect plot device, since the child could conceivably be anything needed to resolve the story.  If the trilogy ends with Joseph providing some form of answer to the threat of the Totality, it will be disappointing.

Rating: 7/10

This is the second book of the “Riftwar Legacy” series, following on the heels of “The Betrayal”.  This particular novel appears to be set between the events of the two games that served as the inspiration for the “Legacy” series, and the result is far more organic.  The first book felt forced towards a massive confrontation in too short a narrative space, and the character turns felt like the incremental power increases of a conventional RPG.

This book, on the other hand, serves to set up a new conflict by focusing on some of the intrigues in Krondor itself.  While Feist manages to make action compelling, the intrigue is often his best material.  If nothing else, it gives the world of Midkemia more weight and realism, something that can be missed when dashing from action set piece to action set piece.

This novel also continues to explore Jimmy the Hand’s development within Prince Arutha’s household, and as one would expect, that’s the strength of the story.  Jimmy’s past history touches on the underbelly of the Prince’s city, so it makes sense for him to be involved.  His abilities are still too perfect to be believed, but that’s partly due to the necessity of connecting plot points between the games, which were developed outside of Feist’s immediate control.

All that said, the origins of the story keep the tale from reaching the kind of creative heights as one has come to expect from Feist.  It’s becoming entirely clear why the “Legacy” series, originally planned as a total of five volumes, never continued past the third.  Feist does his best to rationalize ideas from an outside source, but ultimately, the flaws are exposed.

Rating: 6/10

This is the ninth classic James Bond novel, and the first to be written with the films specifically in mind.  The result is an odd mixture of character justification and franchise rebooting, both of which serve to present enough interesting material to overcome some of the typical sexism.

The first third of the novel is dominated by Bond’s forced vacation at a natural health spa.  This entire section appears to be a long-winded response to criticism leveled at the Bond character’s many vices: chain smoking, excessive alcohol, womanizing, and so forth.  While his attitude towards women remains intact (and archaic), Bond finds himself suddenly energetic, happy, and productive after his detoxification.

Of course, his colleagues quickly tire of the new Bond, and it’s immediately implied that this healthier and better-adjusted man is hardly fit for his profession.  Just as the modern Jack Bauer is fueled by his many demons, the iconic Bond must be psychological damaged and self-destructive to operate as he does.  This is something that was often overlooked in the films, to their detriment.  (The recent “Casino Royale”, in contrast, was superior for bringing the character back to his roots.)

The rest of the book introduces the terrorist organization SPECTRE.  The story was originally conceived as a film, so it’s likely that SPECTRE (and by extension, the mastermind Blofeld) was meant to serve as Bond’s ever-present nemesis.  This leads to one of the more intriguing aspects of the book: Bond never encounters the man behind the terrorism.  He foils the plot, but the enemy is effectively untouched.  It’s a neat and unusual twist for such an oddly substantial installment in the franchise.

Rating: 7/10

It’s been quite some time since Linkin Park graced fans with new material.  The previous studio release, “Meteora”, was released four years ago, and seemed to take the familiar formula from “Hybrid Theory” in a more mature direction.  One might have expected the new release to remain on the same path, especially since it was some of the better material in the alt metal/rap fusion subgenre.  Instead, the band chose a more conventional direction, and the essential question is whether or not the new style works.

1) Wake – The album begins with a short instrumental, and like so many such openings, it leaves very little impact.  If anything, one is left with the desire to hear the song that might have progressed from such a beginning.  (7/10)

2) Given Up – The first fully realized song on the album sets forth the conventional nature of the material.  The fusion elements of the previous albums are completely missing.  While the song itself has some of the familiar edge, the musical structure is a bit simple.  The middle section actually sounds like someone trying too hard to be edgy, which is never good.  (6/10)

3) Leave Out All the Rest – This song sounds like it should be included in the soundtrack for what would likely be a very good film.  It quickly erases the bad feeling left by the previous track and gives me hope for the rest of the material.  Not only that, but it gives the vocalist a chance to sing, which is always a good thing.  I also can’t help but relate to the lyrics on some level.  (8/10)

4) Bleed It Out – One of the few examples of the previous fusion style, and the best such track on the album.  When the bass line cuts in on every verse, it’s hard not to feel the energy of the song kick up a notch.  The chorus is a bit too simplistic, unfortunately, but it doesn’t ruin the energy much at all.  (8/10)

5) Shadow of the Day – This could easily be described as Linkin Park’s version of U2’s “With or Without You”.  It definitely sounds very familiar, especially the bass line, but there are enough differences to make this work on its own.  Again, this could be a great soundtrack entry, which seems to stand for many of the tracks on this album.  (8/10)

6) What I’ve Done – This is, of course, the track included in the enormously popular film “The Transformers”, so it fits with the overall impression that the songs were designed as perfect soundtrack fare.  That doesn’t take away from the strength of the song, which works just fine on its own.  (8/10)

7) Hands Held High – This is the other song written in the former style, and it falls incredibly flat.  Clearly a screed against George Bush and his political supporters, there’s little else to recommend it to the less partisan listener.  The music behind the words is often too spare, and when the song finally gets somewhere in the final minute, it’s a bit too little, too late.  (5/10)

No More Sorrow – After the drop in energy from the previous track, this is a surprisingly aggressive track that seems to present a case for more material in the “nu metal” style.  While the song is nice enough, there’s very little originality to it.  (6/10)

9) Valentine’s Day – This track brings the album back to a style more in keeping with “Shadow of the Day”, which is actually a good thing.  In fact, one is left wondering if this is the better direction for the band, given how strong the vocals can be with the right material.  (8/10)

10) In Between – This is an odd track, to say the least.  It’s quite minimalist after the lush layering of the previous track, and it feels like something that would have worked far better in the band’s former style.  As presented, this song is actually rather boring.  (5/10)

11) In Pieces – This track also starts slowly, but about halfway through the song, things pick up and the song is salvaged nicely.  Hardly one of the best on the album, since there’s still a distinct lack of energy throughout, but it could have been much worse.  (6/10)

12) The Little Things Give You Away – While this is also a spare composition, it manages to keep the album from ending on a sour note.  The vocals are very done, and while the song does feel a bit long, this is a very good way to end the album.  (8/10)

If nothing else, this album presents two very different paths forward for the band.  They appear to have lost touch with their previous style, given the uneven results of similar tracks on this album, so changes will need to continue.  Former fans would probably prefer a direction in keeping with the harder tracks, but they were a bit conventional and even generic, and that would leave the band in a precarious position for growth and success.  On the other hand, the more melodic material showcased the vocals and the musicianship, even if it appeals to a different audience than earlier albums.  As it stands now, this latest effort is a bit average, since the band is struggling to find its new voice.

Rating: 7/10

The first story arc for “Buffy: Season 8” was somewhat typical of the Buffyverse seasonal pattern: loads of new information and setup.  The plot-driven structure was sufficient to set the tone for the series (establishing that the mythology is still viable in the new format), but conceptually, a number of ideas were left untouched.  One gets the feeling that “Season 8” will still barely scratch the surface, despite spinning out a full story arc in the classic “Buffy” mold.

This single-issue tale is a perfect example.  It’s a glimpse of the Slayer state of play, but this could have easily been expanded into a mini-series all its own.  It’s a story that never could have been told on the original television series, because the usual suspects are hardly seen.  It’s about approaching the new Slayer legacy from a completely new and philosophically challenging point of view.

In the very first issue, Whedon resolved a minor continuity issue by introducing the idea of new Slayers posing as Buffy around the world.  Logically speaking, this would serve many purposes.  It would throw off enemies who might want to take advantage of Buffy’s new status quo by giving them a decoy.  It would spread the legend of Buffy Summers by placing her “everywhere”, leading the charge with the new Slayer army.  It would give the new Slayers more confidence, knowing that they were fighting beside the most experienced Slayer out there.

This story explores that concept from an interesting perspective: what is it like to be one of the “decoys”?  What does it mean to take on the mantle of a living legend, knowing that it might mean dying in her place?  Why would someone willingly accept such a role?  The result is a tale that demands repeated readings and thoughtful consideration, not unlike the classic “Firefly” episode “Objects in Space”.

One aspect of the story that I found particularly intriguing, in keeping with the central idea behind Critical Myth and the exploration of popular culture icons, is how the Slayer experiences the moment of connection to the Chosen line.  The Slayer within the story comes to see herself as a part of a greater whole, less an individual than the extension of something else and more important.

This strikes at the heart of “Buffy” as a whole.  One of the ongoing questions on the show pertained to identity.  What part of Buffy was the human individual, and what part of her was the Chosen legacy?  Where did the person end and the Slayer begin?  This story reveals, once again, the deep philosophical undercurrents of Whedon’s work.  I only wish it had been a little longer, so the ideas could have more space to breathe.

Rating: 8/10

I have a habit, when it comes to the “Shatnerverse” novels, to wait until each trilogy is completed to read the accumulated material.  There were some delays in publishing the final installment of the “Totality” trilogy, and I completely forgot to look for the concluding volume until recently.  Long story short, I’m using the sparse Trek novel schedule as an excuse to start with this latest Shatner epic.

The “Shatnerverse” is the perfect example of the mythic nature of most franchise concepts.  None of the Shatner-related Star Trek books are set within the accepted “canon” (which is itself a conglomeration of semi-divergent myths), so this is even more apocryphal than the rest of the novels.  In a way, this makes sense of the focus and tone of the novels.  One would expect someone in the future of the Trek universe to tell overly-praising tales of James T. Kirk, one of the most iconic figures in popular culture.

This is perhaps the most low-key volume in the long series of “Shatnerverse” novels, centering on a murder investigation on Bajor.  Picard is along for the ride, and while there’s never a doubt that Kirk is the superior individual, the authors portray Kirk as deeply respectful to his fellow captain.  The circumstances on Bajor prompt Kirk to recall one of his earliest missions as captain of the Enterprise, one involving an unusual contest held by (of course) an unusually provocative young woman.

For those expecting the usual action and fast pace from the Kirk worship, this is a bit of a shift.  Despite that, it’s a quick and enjoyable read.  Fans of the earlier related novels should be more than happy, but new readers should start at the very beginning.

Rating: 8/10

This is the third novel in the APO series for “Alias”, and it seems to sit right in the middle of the pack.  The first book was far from impressive; the second fit into the fourth season much better.  This novel manages to make connections to the relationships and tensions of the fourth season while telling a solid espionage story, but some of the details are way off the mark.

There are some positives.  The author is well-versed in media tie-in fiction and he manages to cover the plot and character structures better than most.  It’s rare for an “Alias” novel to delve into some of the long-term repercussions from earlier plot events, but in many respects, the challenge for Sydney Bristow is completely internal.  She’s feeling guilt over Francie’s fate, and that character exploration is wonderfully done.

Unfortunately, while the author did enough homework to understand how Francie’s death would impact Sydney’s compassionate psychology, he dropped the ball on other aspects of the series mythology.  More than once, the central figure of the mythology, Milo Rambaldi, is referred to as “Carlos Rimbaldi”.  This is the kind of thing that basic fact-checking should have covered, and something that immediately sets the well-versed reader on edge.  Both the author and the editor should share the blame, since mistakes like that keep the book from reaching its full potential.

Rating: 7/10

This is the third and final volume of the “Legends of Dune” trilogy, covering the span of the Butlerian Jihad, the crusade against “thinking machines”.  As with the first two novels, the main issue is one of execution.  The ideas are sound, once the basic premise is accepted, but some ideas are glossed over while others get an unusual amount of exploration.

In terms of the writing, this is perhaps the best of the three books.  Much time is spent establishing the basic foundations for most (if not all) of the major influencing organizations existent in the original “Dune”.  While it seems hard to believe that each and every concept and organization had its genesis during the time of the Jihad, in retrospect, it aligns well with the idea of the Corrino Empire and its static, entrenched society.

In some cases, however, the connections aren’t made well enough.  The origin of the Bene Gessirit had already been established in earlier works (as “witches” with “super psychic powers”, no less), but this book covers the first true Reverend Mother.  This entire sequence does not work, especially considering that the process is not spice-driven as presented (no Water of Life, which makes no sense) and it ignores the original depiction of the Bene Gessirit as women seen as witches for their incredible sense of biochemical and psychological control.  In other words, witches in perception, not witches in ability.

One key criticism is perhaps the hardest to rationalize.  If there is one event that was established as beginning at the Battle of Corrin, beyond the end of the Jihad and the beginning of the Corrino dynasty, it was the initiation of the Atreides/Harkonnen feud.  Having the two families as friends, even relatives of a sort, meshed well with the intertwined nature of the Houses far in the future.  However, as written, the feud begins over a contrived crisis of conscience, and it doesn’t work.

The rest of the criticism is reserved for the usual weaknesses: characterization and writing style.  Most of the good ideas are hampered by the decision to chop the story into very small chapters instead of longer examinations of a situation.  This also leads to shallow characterization, where the characters are overly simplistic.  The result sounds like a horrible attempt to capture history starting with little more than a list of names, places, and dates, ascribing personalities more by what a person has done than any consideration of deep personal motivation.

Rating: 6/10

This is the first novel I’ve read by Gaiman, and I had very little idea what to expect.  I’ve read some of his comic book work in the past (most recently his Marvel mini-series), but his novels have an even more fervent following.  Being a huge fan of “urban fantasy”, particularly the Charles deLint side of the genre, I thought this would be a great place to start.

First and foremost, I loved the unusual “voice” of the novel.  Sometimes serious, often quirky and sarcastic, this feels like the best use of the Douglas Adams brand of storytelling.  The absurdity is all there, along with an Arthur Dent-esque main character, and most of the characters are beyond weird and improbable.  Underneath the absurdity, however, is a dark and unsettling core.  In visual terms, think Terry Gilliam: the description of London Below is that well-crafted.

Apparently there was a BBC production of the same story that was created concurrently (or thereabouts), and it’s easy to see how the ideas in the book could have originated or informed something far more visual.  On the other hand, it’s hard to imagine how some of the more alluring and sumptuous characters could possibly live up to expectations on the small screen.  Characters like Lamia evoke a primal image of dark gothic beauty; it works incredibly well on the page, but would be very difficult to pull off on film without the perfect actress with the precisely perfect look.

Whatever the case, the book was a very quick read and worth every minute of it.  As a first taste of Gaiman’s prose, it is encouraging enough to drive me to pick up the rest.

Rating: 8/10

This is the sixth and final novel in the original run of franchise novels.  The publisher would eventually release three more novels using outlines from series creator J. Michael Straczynski, largely in an attempt to resolve the quality/continuity issues in the first six novels.  In many respects, however, this is the end of the “first era” of the “Babylon 5” novels, and might possibly be the best out of all of them (faint praise, indeed).

This particular novel has its good points, though many of the same issues remain.  As always, the novels attempt to construct a dramatically viable situation (once again hinging on the off-screen sins of the Narn Regime) by offering something that is too massive to be ignored in the series proper.  The characterizations are a bit shaky, the setting is hard to pin down amidst so much else happening in the same time period on-screen…the list goes on.

The main oddity of this novel, however, is the massive spoiler on the back cover.  The events mentioned on the back of the book all take place in the final 40 pages.  This robs the book of some of its power, since most of the time is spent looking for some sign that the indicated plot is actually going to happen.  While this is mildly entertaining as an exercise in story construction, seeing how the plot threads converge to the inevitable outcome, it’s just another problem for the book to overcome.

Rating: 6/10