Why am I such a jerk?

I've had a couple questions from readers who notice that my book reviews tend to be negative. And I've been asked what I have against Dan Brown. So I figured I'd answer that here.

On the subject of negativity, I work as an editor. That job has trained me to see the faults in things. And I'm pretty good at it. The real problem is that only two things ever stand out in any work: flaws and moments of brilliance. The merely satisfactory is background. When I started my reviews, I decided to be brutally honest. So I point out the flaws in the hope that any writers who might read this after stumbling upon the site (or losing a bet) might avoid such mistakes in their own work.

I also decided to minimize the spoilers in my reviews. It's easy to point out a structural flaw without giving away the story, but brilliant scenes can't be described without spoiling that scene at least.

The truth is that praise is rarely helpful. That's the problem with most writing or critique groups out there: For fear of offending people, they only say nice things about the work. I joined my current critique group two and a half years ago. And they did what I needed. They shredded it, burned the shreds, sowed the ashes in a field, and salted the field lest anything ever grow there again (metaphorically speaking, of course). Every week, I left there wanting to cry. But I kept going back, and an interesting thing happened: I learned. And I thank them for that. I am a much better writer now than I was before their mauling.

So that's why I focus on the negatives: You can learn from them.

On to Dan Brown. It isn't just me, most professional writers have problems with his books (not the man--I'm sure he's delightful--though I can't say for certain, having never met him). The best way to express this problem is by extended metaphor. Writer's typically refer to their techniques as their toolkit. So we'll liken writing to carpentry.

When every would-be carpenter starts out, they go to the hardware store and pick up a basic toolkit and a Time/Life book on making shelves. Nothing in it is special. It will never produce anything great, but it's serviceable. As the carpenter gains experience, he gets more tools, more books, and expands his skills until he can produce works that are unique.

The writer's toolkit is similar. All writers start out with the same set of hackneyed plot devices, one dimensional characterizations, and tricks (like extended metaphors). Every writer is intimitely familiar with them, and the best build a writing workshop like unto Norm Abrams, with tools and techniques that allow them to make works no one else could ever reproduce. Works that surprise even the most jaded.

The problem with Dan Brown is that he uses the basic kit almost exclusively. The story is competantly told, but it's still formulaic and still has plot holes. So writers who know their craft see his work and recogize its shortcomings. Then comes the sour grapes (there, I admitted it): His works sell so many copies while a better crafted story doesn't do as well. Though, I should say the sour grapes aren't the cause of writers disliking the work, they are the reason for decrying it. There's no need to shout about the emperor being naked if no one saw him.

There is something of elitism that comes of learning a craft. A carpenter might look at another's work and scoff bacause of a rough bevel or uneven groove. A chef might spit out slightly overcooked shrimp. Writers are the same. We know the potential of a good story well told, and when one falls short we know it.

So there we go. Not only am I a jerk in my reviews, but I'm also an elitist snob who thinks he knows better than everyone else.

One thing to keep in mind about my reviews is that they're my opinion. You might think I'm wrong. If you do, I welcome debate in the comments. Like all critics that trick is to decide whether or not you tend to agree with me, and take my suggestions accordingly. If I tend to dislike books you love, when I write a bad review of something, get thee to the bookstore and get a copy.

Book Review: Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer

Synopsis: Artemis Fowl kidnaps a Fairy special agent and ransoms her back for leprechaun gold.

I wasn't sure what I was going to think about this book going into it. My wife read it and enjoyed it (though she had a problem with inconsistancies in the Fairy environmentalism).

I rather enjoyed it myself. Halfway through, I wasn't sure how it was going to turn out. The reason is simple: Artemis Fowl is a villain. One of the basics of writing is that the first character you become grounded in is the "focal character." This is the character who defines whose side you should root for. In many cases (typically in formulaic thrillers), this character is murdered by the villain (then you go, "Okay. That's the bad guy. Anything opposing him is good."). The effect is strengthened when the focal character is also an eponymous character. The brilliant thing is that Artemis Fowl, after whom the book is named, is the villain.

You start the book on his side, wanting him to succeed. Then you are put into the point of view of Holly Short, and get to know the LEP Recon. These are the good guys. And they're not Dudley-Do-Rights who deserve a mouthful of crow. They are flawed, but then you start rooting for them.

About halfway through there's a moment of realization that you're rooting for both sides.

I was worried because it's hard to pull off a loss in a novel without alienating your audience. And this book sets up so you can't help but root for the loser. Without spoiling the ending, I have to say I wasn't disappointed.

I also should note that I rather liked Colfer's take on the fey creatures. There's nothing there we haven't seen before, but his take is fresh. Though I don't think there's really a way a centaur could do some of the things Foaly does, and Mulch drops into potty humor readily.

And on the Fairy environmentalism, it is inconsistant in two things. With the environmental concerns Holly expresses against humanity, there should be no place for either petrol (gasoline) engines or the bio-bomb in Fairy society.

Book Review: HMS Surprise by Patrick O'Brian

Synopsis: Jack Aubrey is arrested for debt, gets out, gets a new command, goes to India, and fights the French.

The real attraction for me in this series is the social dynamic. The way the characters get along, even with obviously hostile folk, draws me in. It sparkles. It's so different from our crass modern society.

This book returns to the fun of Master and Commander. And I think that's because much of the time is spent asea. In reading this, I realized why Post Captain irritated at times. I love Jack Aubrey. He's one of my all-time favorite characters. I can read about him doing nigh on anything. But you want to be able to root for a character with some expectation of him winning. Jack Aubrey will never win on land.

But at sea he is awesome. While we've seen him lose, we know he can win even when it's his small ship versus an entire fleet of the enemy. And O'Brian so immerses you in his world that you can smell the gunpowder.

Highlights: Rescuing Dr. Maturin from the French. Storms and albatrosses. Surgery to remove a ball from the pericardium. Surprise vs. the French fleet. Sneaking up behind a friendly ship and shouting, "Surprise" (not really much of a scene, but I found it particularly hilarious at the time). I'd go into detail about each of these scenes, but all I would say is that they are cool and spoil them for those who haven't read this yet.

Book Review: The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman

Synopsis: In the third book of the His Dark Materials trilogy, Will and Lyra join forces again to save the entire multiverse.

First things first, now that I've completed this book, I can think about the series as a whole. Probably the best way to see it would be to consider each of the three books as an act in a single larger story. That solves a lot of the pacing/plotline problems of the previous books (except that each book should ideally stand alone by plot). This book has the second part of act 2 and act 3.

I came into this book with high hopes. The reviews I've read about the greatness of the series all talk about the series itself, not individual books. So I'd hoped this book would pull the rest together and solve my problems. I don't like going around maundering that the emperor isn't wearing clothes. It makes most people think you're either stupid or bad at your job. But when you see His Eminence wandering down the street like a jaybird, you can't just go along with the crowd that insists he's dressed (that's actually the point Pullman is trying to make in this series).

Unfortunately, The Amber Spyglass didn't live up to my hopes. It has the same dragging pace as the other books. That pace finally picks up once Will rescues Lyra and they embark on their quest to destroy death. As I think back now, having finished the book less than 2 hours ago, I can't really think of anything groundbreaking or even new in this book. The closest thing are the Mulefas, think motorcycle-tapirs, and their tallship-swan enemies, but I had such a hard time suspending disbelief at the entire world they inhabited (it wouldn't have been so bad if either Pullman didn't keep insisting they had evolved that way or if I hadn't studied evolution, thermodynamics, or Occam's Razor, as much as I have) that they left me with a bitter taste.

That said, it's a rare series where the final book has a worse case of worldbuilder's disease than the preceeding ones. But that was one of the major problems this book had. Once more, the actual theological implications (God's evil, not actually a god, and needs killin') doesn't bother me except that the forces of said evil god are so patently evil that only the utterly evil or utterly stupid would be on that side (yes, I realize that's a standard atheistic argument, but that actually makes it worse, being unoriginal). And that leads me to my other problems with the agenda: The arguments are terribly prosaic, and the agenda itself often gets in the way of the story.

On a somewhat ironic sidenote, you'd think a story about killing God would refrain from deus ex machina. And yet god crawls out of the machine several times, once in the literal sense of an angel appearing. All it was missing was the crane.

I could go on and on about what was wrong with the story, but the vast majority falls under the cover that I don't ask for much from a story, but internal consistancy is one of them. That, and I ask for the protagonist to act. And I ask for the plot to have some kind of direction. And I ask for the resolution to make some kind of sense.

The denouement of the book (and series) is heartbreaking for the first several pages. And had Pullman ended there, it might have left me with such a powerful emotion that my retrospect on the entire series would be colored by it. But the ending passed through heartbreaking to melodramatic and on into annoying. It's a simple matter of too much of a good thing. As it is, I like the series more for it,

One final note, I always heard that the British were averse to violence. And I thought these books were targeted at kids. But there's some seriously graphic descriptions in here. A reader of Robert Jordan would be familiar with the battle of Dumai's Wells, where hundreds of people are turned into sausage with magic. While that's surely messier than anything that happens in this book, there aren't any lovingly crafted descriptions of sinew, blood, and guts spattering and misting from wounds.

So there it is. The entire His Dark Materials trilogy. I wouldn't say it's terrible. I wouldn't say it's good either. It's a story that could probably have been better told with simplification (The vast majority of what happens in all three books is episodic, not impacting the overall plot much at all.), being cut down to a single book with a tight plot and less browbeating. I think I'd actually really like a book like that.

Book Review: Post Captain by Patrick O'Brian

Synopsis: In the beginning days of the Napoleonic wars, Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin look for love, return to the sea, and advance in their careers.

Probably the easiest way to describe this book is to say it's Master and Commander in reverse. The exact events happen, but their sequence is almost perfectly reversed. Thus, when you consider how slow the denouement of Master and Commander was, it should be fairly clear that the beginning of Post Captain was slow. We're almost halfway through the book before Aubrey gets his new command.

That said, once we finally get Jack out to sea again, the book becomes a joy. There is something about the interpersonal relationships and sociality in these books. It's just fun to read. There is a kind of joy to everything, including being mugged.

The romantic plot of the book annoyed me. It wasn't bad. It seemed almost lifted from a Jane Austin novel. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but when you want a story of high-seas adventure, you don't really want Mr. Darcy.