Books 3

Another chunky list of books read. I’m off parental leave now so expect the pace to slow somewhat.

Desolation Island – Patrick O’Brien

The first of three whole entries for Aubrey & Maturin here, my appreciation of the books having flowered into a beautiful obsession for the month of September. This is the best of the three, with the dynamic duo being faced with overwhelming odds that somehow never seem contrived nor the escapes ridiculous.

The Priory of the Orange Tree – Samantha Shannon

I grew very frustrated with this around the halfway mark, as it became clear that what I found interesting in the book was not the material which was going to make up much of the rest of it. The root of the problem was me just not being enamoured with the core romance, but it’s also a book that suffers heavily from not really engaging with the conditions of its setting; say what you like for old man GRRM, he’d never treat the institutions of feudalism this lightly. Beyond that the climax borders on incoherent, and there’s a comical aspect to the one good dragon repeatedly getting the Worf treatment every time it turns up.

Tower of the Swallow – Andrzej Sapkowski

The light is at the end of the tunnel for Sapkowski, who in his torturous writer’s block has broken the glass over the big “non-linear storytelling” button. The result is a book that moves at least, even if it nakedly skirts the edge of resolving the grand game stuff and Geralt pretty much remains in statis for another book. Exiled philosopher Vysogota is a great addition to the cast, irritating naif Angoulême not so much.

The Fortune of War – Patrick O’Brien

Some slight straining of credulity here, both in the string of catastrophes that Aubrey and Maturin escape from unharmed, and then in the odd light-touch experience of being interrogated on suspicion of spying; it’s all a bit more silly than the series has been so far, if not unenjoyable. Despite an interminable foot chase, when Maturin does turn into Solid Snake over the course of the final chapters, God forgive me I did love it.

The Surgeon’s Mate – Patrick O’Brien

A very strange beast this one, with the characteristic naval action dominating the middle section, bookended (no pun) by Aubrey unwisely getting involved in an affair and Maturin unwisely leaning on the international neutrality of science, and a lengthy prison break from an infamous French castle. A clear improvement over The Fortune of War – you get the impression that O’Brien was much happier writing French villains than Yankee ones – and a delightful romp despite credulity now receding into the distance.

The Red House Mystery – A. A. Milne

A. A. Milne, of “Pooh” fame, tries his hand at writing a locked-room murder mystery. I don’t know if it’s my familiarity with the genre but I guessed te resolution almost immediately, but Milne’s dilettante detective Gillingham is charming enough that I didn’t skip ahead to find out, even if his Holmes and Watson bit is altogether too pleased with itself. Raymond Chandler famously raked this one over the coals for its purported authenticity; it is indeed quite silly, but a fun read regardless.

Fictions – Jorge Luis Borges

A collection of short stories that I confess I have been reading for years at this point. Glad to have finished it, Borges’ ability to conjure an entire setting in a handful of pages is utterly stunning and I’m a big fan of ‘magical realism’, whatever that is supposed to mean.

Splinter of the Mind’s Eye – Alan Dean Foster

An alternative sequel to Star Wars (1977) for a world in which it wasn’t enough of a success to justify the budget to do more space nonsense, or possibly even bring back Harrison Ford. The result is a fascinating historical artifact and an utterly terrible book, a tedious slog through some definitionally low-budget environments (in a book!) and the now unnerving experience of having Luke constantly noting how dazzling various parts of Leia’s anatomy are. Vader falls down a well.

Lady of the Lake – Andrzej Sapkowski

Sapkowski brings it home in style, though the final waffle about what was REALLY going on with the war, multiple-twist ending and all, is a bit much. Sapkowski’s ennui has matured into some intense misanthrophy by this point and it leads to some unique and measured views on (fantasy) wartime and prejudice. The number of abortive plot resolutions in the earlier books pays off here, a layered onion of competing intrigues over young Ciri being unravelled and confounded.