Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Books

Someone in the House by Barbara Michaels: B+

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Book description:
An English Gothic mansion, transported stone by stone to the isolated Pennsylvania hills, Grayhaven Manor calls to Anne and Kevin. Here is the ideal summer retreat—a perfect location from which to write the book they have long planned together. But there are distractions in the halls and shadows of the looming architectural wonder luring them from their work—for they are not alone. Something lives on here from Grayhaven’s shocking past—something beautiful, powerful, and eerily seductive—unlocking the doors of human desire, of fear… and unearthly passion.

Review:
Someone in the House was a recommendation of sorts from Margaret, not coming from her personally but from an archival index. It’s the first book I’ve read by Barbara Michaels, who also writes under the name Elizabeth Peters.

When Anne arrives at Grayhaven, her intention is to work on a literature textbook with her coworker, Kevin, but a feeling of complacency seems to settle in, and little work actually gets accomplished. This air of contentment lingers even after Kevin’s Aunt Bea notices strange noises coming from her nephew’s room which lead into an investigation into possible spiritual phenomena within the house. The ensuing investigation is pretty interesting, at least at first, with plenty of nifty cameras, crypts, and brittle old documents. It does drag a little in spots, though, and by the end, when Anne keeps talking about how she’s figured it out but yet doesn’t divulge the answer, the result is irritating rather than riveting.

Anne herself is an interesting character. Fiercely feminist, she bristles at the notion that she might wish to cancel her own career-minded summer plans in order to accompany her current boyfriend on a trip overseas. Her ardent independence and lack of concern for his opinion of her actions are refreshing. After occasionally enduring weak-willed female protagonists that make me want to scream, Anne is a welcome change. I also like that she’s a feminist without being portrayed as the extreme, man-hating variety.

The rest of the characters, though, are not very interesting. Anne’s coworker and eventual love interest, Kevin, hasn’t got much of a personality and I never bought the romance that develops between them, though the reasons for that are made evident by the end of the book. The conclusion itself could’ve been more climactic, but it does provide a new light with which to see the events of the book, so I suppose that technically qualifies as a twist.

All in all, I enjoyed the book. It was fun and not too long and I’d probably read more by Michaels in this vein.

A Suitable Vengeance by Elizabeth George: C+

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From the back cover:
Award-winning author Elizabeth George gives us an early glimpse into the lives of Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley, forensic scientist Simon Allcourt-St. James, and Lady Helen Clyde in a superlative mystery that is also a fascinating inquiry into the crimes of the heart. Lynley, the eighth earl of Asherton, has brought to Howenstow, his family home, the young woman he has asked to be his bride. But the savage murder of a local journalist is the catalyst for a lethal series of events that shatters the calm of a picturesque Cornwall village and embroils Lynley and St. James in a case far outside their jurisdiction—and a little too close to home. When a second death follows closely on the heels of the first, Lynley finds he can’t help taking the investigation personally—because the evidence points to a killer within his own family.

Review:
It took me ages to finish this. Well, okay, more like a month.

The chief problem with it was this: the first third or so was entirely comprised of relationship angst. Not only that, it was flashback relationship angst, so the outcome was already known to anybody who’s been reading the Lynley books in publication order. There was some family angst, as well, since Lynley had issues with both his brother and mother. The most frustrating part was that most concerned preferred to ignore obvious problems or feelings. This resulted in a pretty boring story at the start, and I was clamoring for someone to get murdered already!

Once someone finally died, the book improved though the angst never quite subsided. The case focused on a journalist from the village nearest Howenstow, and whether his death was related to personal quirk, some fairly hefty misdeeds, or a story someone wanted to suppress. It wasn’t the most fascinating investigation I’ve ever read (I figured out the victim’s Big Secret on page 230 and had to wait sixty-eight pages for the characters to catch up with me), but the end result was a surprise and I liked seeing so much of the action from the perspective of Simon St. James, Lynley’s friend and a forensic expert in his own right. There was one detail about the solution that bothered me, though. Here are some paraphrased quotes:

Lynley: What about the condition of the room and the missing money?
Suspect: I don’t know. Maybe Red Herring took it.

A few minutes later…

Simon: Lynley, who’d you tell about the money?
Lynley: A few people. Why?
Simon: But not Suspect?
Lynley: No.
Simon: … Then how did Suspect know?! (dun dun dunnn…)

Me: Um, because y’all basically just told him?

Enduring all of the angst paid off towards the end, when people finally started saying what they had needed to say to each other for years. Though it was kind of cheesy, I actually really loved the scene where Lynley forced himself to watch as his fianceé freaked over Simon’s supposed death and then clung to him once he revealed himself to be alive. I think I’m a sucker for the tortured, self-loathing type.

So, yes, definitely not my favorite of the Lynley/Havers mysteries so far (I despaired of the latter’s absence, but she actually did make a brief appearance), but tolerable once the investigation got going. It wasn’t so awful that I’m discouraged from reading the rest of the series.

Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler: A-

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From the back cover:
God is change. That is the central truth of the Earthseed movement, whose unlikely prophet is 18-year-old Lauren Olamina. The young woman’s diary entries tell the story of her life amid a violent 21st-century hell of walled neighborhoods and drug-crazed pyromaniacs—and reveal her evolving Earthseed philosophy. Against a backdrop of horror emerges a message of hope: if we are willing to embrace divine change, we will survive to fulfill our destiny among the stars.

Review:
Lauren’s diary entries begin in July 2024, on the eve of her fifteenth birthday, and continue through October 2027, when she is eighteen. In the meantime, the walled neighborhood near Los Angeles in which she and her family live is destroyed and she is forced out onto the road, heading north in search of a better life. Lauren is mature for her years, however, and is more prepared than anyone else for the day when catastrophe strikes. On the road, she collects companions and instructs them in the new religion she has discovered (she states firmly that she did not invent it) while searching for a place they can settle and create a community.

I wondered initially whether I would like this, or if it’d be too religious for me. There were times, indeed, where Lauren’s instruction of her new traveling companions did seem a little creepy and cult-like. Earthseed is really more of a philosophy than a religion, though, and boils down to: “There’s no God who cares about you. So stop sitting around, praying for His intervention, and take care of things yourself.” Since I don’t disagree, the religious stuff didn’t end up bothering me too much.

I found all of the dystopic details very interesting, though occasionally gruesome and horrible. The plot wasn’t complicated—let’s walk North!—but the various encounters with dangerous and desperate people turned what could’ve been a boring travel narrative into something engrossing. I also really liked Lauren, who is smart and level-headed, as well as the way race was dealt with (it’s mentioned and not ignored, but neither is it the defining trait of any character).

I’ll definitely be reading the sequel, Parable of the Talents, and probably checking out other things by Octavia E. Butler, too.

The Keys to the Street by Ruth Rendell: A-

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From the back cover:
When Mary Jago donates her bone marrow to help a complete stranger, the act bonds her with the young man who lives from her transfusion. He will change Mary’s life in ways she could never imagine.

But every act has consequences, often unforseen. Mary’s generosity returns her not only love, but also its opposite. She finds herself in danger from both the middle class world she belongs to and the world of the dispossessed and deranged.

Review:
The Keys to the Street follows several different characters. In addition to Mary Jago, there’s Roman (a middle-aged man who became a vagrant as a way to deal with personal tragedy), Bean (a spry, elderly dog-walker with an eye for opportunities to blackmail his clients), and Hob (a young drug addict who beats people up for cash). Each is interesting and complex in their own right (though Mary is annoyingly weak in dealing with her overbearing ex), and Rendell skillfully and gradually weaves their lives together in an intricate way.

Several homeless people have been killed in the London park that all these characters frequent, and information concerning the deaths and subsequent investigation is parcelled out as each person becomes aware of it. The mystery is never actually the driving focus of the story. There are also subplots concerning Mary’s budding relationship with the man who received her bone marrow and Roman’s gradual realization that he’s ready to rejoin the “respectable” world.

Rendell does a great job with all the characters and tidily wraps up all the plot threads in the novel’s conclusion. My very favorite thing, however, is how she gives readers all the clues they need to put things together for themselves. Rather than spell out the significance of a particular cardigan or a funeral, for example, she allows readers to work out the meaning on their own. I spent a while wondering what the deal was with Mary’s new fella, and it was while I was standing at the sink peeling potatoes that I realized that I had all the information I needed already.

Also, this is the kind of book one keeps thinking about even while peeling potatoes.

The Keys to the Street was a recommendation from Margaret, to whom I am grateful. She mentioned two other books by Rendell that are particular favorites, and I shall be reading those in the near future.

Note: Quite a lot of detail is given on the environs of London’s Regent’s Park and I found it helpful to consult a map. I’ve included the link here for any who might be interested.

Master and Commander by Patrick O’Brian: A-

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From the back cover:
it is the dawn of the 19th Century; Britain is at war with Napoleon’s France. Jack Aubrey, a young lieutenant in Nelson’s navy, is promoted to command of H.M.S. Sophie, an old, slow brig unlikely to make his fortune. But Captain Aubrey is a brave and gifted seasman, his thirst for adventure and victory immense. With the aid of his friend Stephen Maturin, ship’s surgeon and secret intelligence agent, Aubrey and his crew engage in one thrilling battle after another, their journey culminating in a stunning clash with a mighty Spanish frigate against whose guns and manpower the tiny Sophie is hopelessly outmatched.

Review:
I can’t help but compare this to the Hornblower series, so let me get that out of the way. Jack Aubrey is so Hornblower’s point-for-point opposite that I have to wonder if it’s intentional. He loves music, he craves companionship, and he’s not terribly clever. In fact, he’s a little dense and given to verbal blundering. His Lieutenant, who spends most of the book critical of Jack, gets it right when he says he possesses a “beefy arrogant English insensibility.”

I can see why Stephen Maturin finds Jack to be endearing, but I personally claim the good doctor as my favorite character. He’s somewhat morally ambiguous (or at least not opposed to questioning established conventions) and sardonic, but also affectionate and resourceful. I like how his ignorance of nautical matters is used to acquaint the reader with the workings of a ship, and I actually had a moment of squee later on when he ends up steering the sloop in a crucial moment.

I’d heard this series described as “Jane Austen on boats,” and I can see from where the comparison springs. There are several social gatherings with the rich and foolish in attendance and the manner in which some of them cluelessly spout very silly things would be quite at home in one of the interminable parties Emma Woodhouse was forced to endure. The writing is pretty witty in general, though O’Brian doesn’t stint in depicting the soldiers as the drunken, violent, filthy, whoring fellows the majority of them are.

By far, the best part of the book is the friendship between Aubrey and Maturin. There are several scenes between them that I love to pieces, like when Stephen is called upon to escort a misbehaving Aubrey from a party, the time Aubrey consults an imaginary Stephen for advice, and the awesome scene where Aubrey freaks out about a snake and climbs on a chair while Stephen nonchalantly laments a hole in his stockings. They are really quite slashy. I approve.

Lastly, I wanted to mention a very useful website. The book’s dedication is written in Latin and, because I am the kind of person who cannot abide not knowing what it means, I looked it up on Google and was led to A Guide for the Perplexed, a site with the ambitious undertaking of translating all foreign phrases in the series. I feel very fortunate to have discovered the site before I had ventured farther than the Author’s Note, so that I need never dwell in ignorance!

Interior Desecrations by James Lileks: B+

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From the back cover:
Warning! This book is not to be used in any way, shape, or form as a design manual. Rather, like the documentary about youth crime Scared Straight, it is meant as a caution of sorts, a warning against any lingering nostalgia we may have for the 1970s, a breathtakingly ugly period when even the rats parted their hair down the middle.

What does this have to do with furniture? Nothing. Everything. The kind of interior design you’ll see in these pages is what happens when an entire culture becomes so besotted with the New, the Hip, the With-It Styles that they cannot object to orange wallpaper—because they fear they’ll look square.

Please not that the author and publisher are not responsible for the results of viewing these pictures.

Review:
Lileks is the brains behind The Gallery of Regrettable Food and his site, The Institute of Official Cheer, hosts several other regular features that “humiliate the defenseless past.” I don’t always find his stuff funny, but sometimes it does amuse me, so when I found this book for $1.98, I knew it had to be mine.

The contents of the book are organized by type of room and follow the general format of a full-page color photo on one side and a few paragraphs of snark on the opposite page. It’s an easy read, and would probably be ideal bathroom material for those who like that sort of thing. As usual, I didn’t find everything funny. There were lots of drug references and some occasional crude humor that didn’t appeal to me. Every now and then, though, some particular turn of phrase or visual fancy would strike me in the right way and crack me up.

The designs were indeed genuinely horrible—inducing numerous headshakes, “wows,” and “holy craps”—and Lileks has a knack for picking out something one missed on first glance and finding something amusing to say about it. Probably the most insane room in the entire collection is the bathroom straight out of 2001: A Space Odyssey. It has silver lamé bolster pillows and two toilets.

There was one, though, that I quite liked. The furnishings were crap, but the architecture of the room was really neat. It was high-ceilinged and had an entertainment unit along a wall (boasting a state-of-the-art reel-to-reel player!) and then a ladder built into the adjoining wall that one could climb to access a library loft above. How cool is that?! I want one! Then again, I actually like the wall o’ walnut paneling in my living room, so perhaps my taste is suspect, too.

The Five Red Herrings by Dorothy L. Sayers: B+

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From the back cover:
The body was on the pointed rocks alongside the stream. The artist might have fallen from the cliff where he was painting, but there are too many suspicious elements—particularly the medical evidence that proves he’d been dead nearly half a day, though eyewitnesses had seen him alive a scant hour earlier. And then there are the six prime suspects—all of them artists, all of whom wished him dead. Five are red herrings, but one has created a masterpiece of murder that baffles everyone, including Lord Peter Wimsey.

Review:
At first, I was telling people that The Five Red Herrings ought to be marketed as a sleep aid, because I had dozed off while reading it no fewer than five times. By the end, though, I ended up liking it a good bit.

One thing in its favor was merciful lack of wills! Each of the suspects had their own motive based on something the victim had done to tick them off, which was a lovely change. Another thing I liked was that everyone had their own imperfect alibi, which enabled the local police force (far more involved in the case than is usual for a Wimsey mystery) to each put forth their own theory, using the established facts but implicating someone different each time.

Wimsey seemed to know who the culprit was all along, and early on instructed one of the locals to conduct a search of the crime scene for a particular item. I didn’t get what he was after at first, though later thought I had. I was incorrect, but somehow ended up suspecting the correct person for the wrong reasons. Still, I enjoyed that the guilt of each of the others seemed plausible, and that Sayers somehow made it easy to keep all the varying bits of evidence straight.

The overall feel of the novel was a little more precise and clinical than usual, relying largely on train schedules and hypothetical time tables of how the crime was perpetrated. There was no trace of the romantic angst Wimsey suffered in the last novel. Additionally, Bunter and Parker, usually fairly active in Wimsey’s cases, appeared only briefly, and even Lord Peter was absent for long stretches of time as the locals pursued their own investigation. Some of these fellows were pretty indistinguishable, I’m afraid.

Although this wasn’t a characteristic Wimsey novel, I still enjoyed it. I believe Harriet Vane is due to reappear in the next one, so I expect a return of the angst, but she and Lord Peter also seem to be detecting in tandem, which sounds very appealing. Could this finally be the start of the really great ones?

Slam Dunk 1 by Takehiko Inoue: B

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Sakuragi has never been a hit with girls. In fact, in three years of junior high he amassed an impressive fifty rejections! Now in his first year of high school, he once again believes he’s met the girl of his dreams. Haruko loves athletes, and basketball in particular, so to win her affections, Sakuragi becomes determined to join the school team.

This aim is complicated by Sakuragi’s overwhelming, almost painful stupidity and violent outbursts of temper. He mouths off within earshot of the captain (who also happens to be Haruko’s older brother) and publicly humiliates him in a basketball contest. Though he manages to control himself long enough to get onto the team, he is quickly frustrated by fundamentals training and ends up storming off the court in a huff.

I know Slam Dunk is a classic of sports manga, a genre I really like, but I didn’t enjoy it quite as much as I thought I would. Most of that has to do with Sakuragi’s temperament, though, so I’m hopeful that as he’s forced to learn discipline and teamwork, the ignorant boasting and random karate chopping will gradually subside. The actual playing and practicing of basketball is great fun to read, another reason I assume my enjoyment will increase in future installments.

I was both impressed and a little confused by Inoue’s artwork. The style is by turns realistic and comedic, and though sometimes it borders on unattractive, there are definitely moments of greatness. A page and a half spread of the basketball court is a particular standout; the way the panel is framed does an excellent job in conveying the size and height of the room.

The confusion stems from several characters that appear to be of African descent. Their names are Japanese, though, and one of them is Haruko’s brother, so I am assuming they’re not supposed to be a different ethnicity than their peers. I was also struck by the resemblance of one of Sakuragi’s buddies to the late Robert Goulet. Consider the evidence:

A number of extras are included in this volume, all without deviating from the standard Shonen Jump price of $7.99. The first chapter is printed entirely in color, and a glossy color section in back includes a profile of a real-life NBA superstar and some tips on how to perform a slam dunk. And a sticker!

I liked this okay, and I’m confident I’ll like the rest more. It’ll be a long wait until volume two–due out in February–but Viz recently announced that a new series is due to replace Slam Dunk in the magazine come March, so the frequency of releases ought to increase in the near future.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Admiral Hornblower in the West Indies by C. S. Forester: A-

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From the back cover:
In the chaotic aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars, the legendary Rear Admiral Lord Hornblower struggles to impose order. Serving as commander-in-chief of His Majesty’s ships and vessels in the West Indies, Hornblower confronts a formidable array of hostile forces, among them pirates, revolutionaries, and a blistering hurricane. The war is over, but peaceful it is not.

Review:
This was an enjoyable conclusion to the Hornblower saga—far better than the incomplete Hornblower During the Crisis would’ve been had I remained on publication order ’til the end.

Rather than one continuous narrative, the story was broken down into five self-contained novellas. My favorite was probably “St. Elizabeth of Hungary,” in which Hornblower thwarted an attempt to free Napoleon from St. Helena, though the rest all had their moments. Other challenges involved capturing a speedy ship trafficking in slaves, escaping from a band of desperate pirates, maintaining England’s neutrality in a Venezuelan conflict, and surviving a hurricane.

It wasn’t as dark as previous entries in the series, which makes sense given that it’s peacetime and all, but Hornblower was still personally as conflicted and brilliant as ever. Although I generally would prefer a novel over a series of novellas, these stories were so charming it’s hard to imagine this final outing as anything else; this approach was a nice way to craft a happy ending without diverging into sentimentality.

I never suspected that I would love the Hornblower novels as much as I did. It would make me happy if even one person decided to read them based on my endorsement.

The Summoned by Cameron Dokey: D

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From the back cover:
Doyle is in the supermarket when the latest vision hits. Fear. Fire. Death. And an ornately engraved ancient amulet. As usual, the Powers That Be are none too specific. When he comes to, he is being tended by an anxious young woman named Terri Miller.

A shy girl from a small town, Terri is new to L.A., and feeling like a wallflower in the bright lights of this big city. Soon after her encounter with Doyle, who heads off without more than a perfunctory thank-you, a charismatic young man invites her to a meeting for a club to which he belongs.

Meanwhile, Angel and his gang have been turned on to a killer who burns his victims beyond recognition. Several of the deceased have connections to Terri’s newfound circle of friends, and Cordelia suddenly finds herself in possession of an amulet that looks awfully familiar…

Review:
Lest you think I read that description and went, “Ooh, that sounds totally awesome!”, I hasten to explain that the first five words were sufficient to induce me to check this book out from the library. I’ve read a few Angel tie-ins before, but they were all set later in the series, and consequently did not feature Doyle. And the supermarket part sounded potentially amusing. I fully expected the rest to be pretty crappy.

Alas, the supermarket turned out to be a disappointment. I wanted to see Doyle amidst the bright lights and cheesy muzak, searching grumblingly for some hard-to-find but specific item that Cordelia had sent him to fetch. Or maybe rejoicing on having scored a good deal on something random, like squash. But no, he was just on a Guinness run. Boring.

I heartily disliked Terri, who was one of those whiny “I’m so worthless” people I can’t stand. Here’s an example: she’d promised to pick something up at the store for a homeless guy, but forgot. Instead of going back in like a normal person, she was overcome by “a sense of failure greater than any she’d ever known.” She promptly joined a cult, despite having received a warning from one of its current members. When she later regretted the decision, I could summon no sympathy for her.

As predicted, the rest of the story was not good. The plot was lame and the characterization of Angel and Doyle often felt wrong. I had a hard time believing they’d say or think the things they were saying and thinking, particularly during a manufactured argument over whether Doyle was capable of charming the insipid Terri—his character further sullied by the fact that he actually liked her—in order to obtain information on the cult.

The author also had a weird habit of trying to justify things, like spending an entire page on why Doyle was using a pay phone instead of his cell to call Angel. Sometimes this resulted in puzzling lines like “Terri dropped her face into her hands. The fact that, even to her, her reaction felt obvious didn’t render it any the less potent.” I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it seemed like the intent was to defend the clichéd writing.

Angel novels aren’t usually this lousy. I certainly hope there aren’t any out there worse than this one. For anyone considering giving them a try, I’d recommend Sanctuary as a good place to start.

Deja Demon by Julie Kenner: B-

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From the back cover:
Between attending gala fund-raisers for her husband’s political campaign, training her teenage daughter to wield a crossbow and a stiletto, potty-training a toddler, and her increasingly complex personal life, Kate hardly has time to prepare for the impending chaos: a neighborhood Easter party that has her buried in eggs.

Keeping the local kiddos in line will take all of Kate’s skills as a mother and Demon Hunter, just when she’ll need them the most. An old enemy has descended upon San Diablo—along with a full-blown army of the undead and a powerful demonic ally. Once again, it’s up to Kate to save the world. Good thing she can multitask!

Review:
Before I get into the content of my review, I’d like to compose a brief note to the author.

Dear Julie –
You (and, apparently, your editors) seem to be laboring under a misconception about the meaning of a certain word. “Eviscerate” means to disembowel or remove internal organs. An inanimate object cannot be eviscerated. When you write, therefore, that a wall of red flames eviscerated everything in its path (specifically mentioning pedestals) and that our heroine “escaped even as the demons and their lair were eviscerated,” I am going to have to call foul.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news; I hope you’re not too gutted.

P. S. When a scene occurs outside, silence cannot fill the room.

Anyways, because I was unaccountably eager for this fourth installment in the Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom series, I was the first patron in the reserve queue for it at my local library. The shame! These books really aren’t very good, and I’ve come to realize each of them follows the same formula.

1. A demon minion attacks Kate in her backyard and demands information on something its master needs for his big “king of the world!” ritual. This can be some bones, a ring, or a sword. Up until this point, the good guys will never have heard of this thing. The demons never seem to realize that maybe they should keep their plans to themselves.

2. Some scattered investigation into the threat will ensue but take a backseat to Kate’s domestic concerns. These will involve a dinner party.

3. The word “kiddo” will be used a distracting number of times. Mostly by Kate, but she seems to infect others with it; even priests aren’t immune. Kiddo count in this book: 12.

4. Kate will angst about keeping secrets from her husband. This will not prevent them from making out repeatedly.

5. Someone Kate cares about (usually her teenage daughter) will be kidnapped by the demons.

Deja Demon offers some variety in the details, but adheres to this same basic framework. By the halfway point, I’m thinking, “Okay, that’s it. I am not going to read these anymore.” But then something I’ve been wanting to happen finally does, and it weakens my resolve by being kind of awesome. It’s just too bad said event is preceded by 300 pages of stuff I feel like I’ve read before. Perhaps a more appropriate title for this book would’ve been Déjà Vu.

Hornblower and the Atropos by C. S. Forester: A

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From the back cover:
In the wake of a humbling incident abord a canal boat in the Cotswolds, young Captain Horatio Hornblower arrives in London to take command of the Atropos, a 22-gun sloop barely large enough to require a captain. Her first assignment under Hornblower’s command is as flagship for the funeral procession of Lord Nelson.

Soon Atropos is part of the Mediterranean Fleet’s harassment of Napoleon, recovering treasure that lies deep in Turkish waters and boldly challenging a Spanish frigate several times her size. At the center of each adventure is Hornblower, Forester’s most inspired creation, whose blend of cautious preparation and spirited execution dazzles friend and foe alike.

Review:
I am such a fan of Forester’s writing style. The Hornblower novels always have their fair share of adventure, of course, but less grandiose moments are equally riveting. This book opens with Hornblower and his wife taking a journey by canal. Through Hornblower’s fascination with the process and exhilaration at filling in for a wounded crewman, the reader is instantly drawn into the story. Later there are naval skirmishes and negotiations with nations of dubious neutrality, but it’s the efforts of Hornblower and crew to recover British funds from a sunken vessel that I personally find most interesting.

Forester is also deft at efficient characterization. Here’s an example: Hornblower has just taken command of his new ship and in the company of Mr. Jones, his new First Lieutenant, reads his orders. They contain the surprising directions to plan Lord Nelson’s funeral. Hornblower can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. The next line reads: “Mr. Jones decided that he should laugh, too, and did so, obsequiously.” I really like how that kind of sums up Jones’ entire personality.

Speaking of supporting characters, some are almost unbearably annoying. Hornblower’s wife seems to be more shrewish than ever before, and seriously needs a hobby aside from her husband. There’s a “ridiculous doctor,” which compels to me to wonder how often that character type may be found amongst military crews in various media. Certainly Gaius Baltar is ridiculous. Bashir was a trifle ridiculous at times. Are there more I’m forgetting?

I always like Forester’s endings, too. This one is no exception, culminating in an important event in Hornblower’s personal life and kind of bringing the series full circle for me. The first Hornblower novel to be written, Beat to Quarters, also the first I read, is the next after this one chronologically. After going back in time to when he was a Midshipman and Lieutenant, now he’s finally become the man he was when I first encountered him. It’s an interesting effect, though I still intend to follow internal chronology for any rereads of the series.

In conclusion, I continue to adore the Hornblower saga and recommend it unreservedly.

Storm Front by Jim Butcher: B-

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From the back cover:
With rent past due and a decent meal becoming an issue of some importance, Harry Dresden needs work, and soon. A call from a distraught wife, and another from Lt. Murphy of the Chicago PD Special Investigation Unit makes Harry believe things are looking up, but they are about to get worse, much worse.

Someone is harnessing immense supernatural forces to commit a series of grisly murders. Someone has violated the first law of magic: Thou Shalt Not Kill. Tracking that someone takes Harry into the dangerous underbelly of Chicago, from mobsters to vampires, while he himself is under suspicion of the crimes. One thing is certain, if he can’t stop whoever is on the killing spree, Harry will be the next victim.

Review:
I will confess up front that I spent $40 for the unabridged audio edition solely because it’s read by James Marsters. I’ll not be doing that again. Not that Marsters was bad—he was quite good, really, aside from a couple mispronunciations (I’m pretty sure that when one refers to one’s self as a “spellslinger” it’s not intended to be pronounced “spells linger”)—but because I can’t see spending that much money on a book in this series now that I know what I’ll be getting.

What will I be getting?

1. Sexay laydays. Of the six female characters (including the first victim), four were sexay. Three of those worked in the sex trade in some capacity. Scenes with them involved sentences like, “She laughed, a sound rich enough to roll around naked in.” The fifth was a client whose missing husband was into the orgy scene. The sixth was a cop, possessed of martial arts skills but not averse to using feminine wiles to extract Harry’s cooperation on a case.

2. A yawner of a mystery. I’m not sure it’s possible for me to be less interested in mob-related plots. Harry’s angsty backstory wasn’t that great, either. Oh, also, he has a totally eyeroll-inducing name: Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden.

3. An interesting magic system. It seemed that a fair amount of thought went into devising it. Standard things like spells and potions seemed the norm, but I thought the method for preparing the latter was pretty neat.

4. A talking skull. Easily the most entertaining character in the book. It didn’t hurt that Marsters gave him a British accent, so that he kind of sounded like Spike.

I am reminded of the Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom books by Julie Kenner because, though this series has some serious flaws, I kind of want to keep reading it anyway. My local library has all but one of them, though only the most recent is available with Marsters’ narration. I’ll miss the Spike-sounding skull, but he isn’t worth $40.

Strong Poison by Dorothy L. Sayers: B+

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From the back cover:
The Crown’s case was watertight. The police were adamant that the right person was on trial. The judge’s summing up was also clear. ‘The prisoner had the means—the arsenic. She had the opportunity to administer it.’ Harriet Vane was guilty. And Harriet Vane should hang. But the jury disagreed. And so did Lord Peter Wimsey—he had to prove that Harriet hadn’t murdered her lover with arsenic—and he also had to find out who had.

Review:
Alas, I was rather disappointed in Strong Poison. True, it addressed one of the complaints I had early on in the series and featured loads of personal drama for the investigators. I liked the turn Peter took here—in love and accepting rejection with grace and angst—and I liked Harriet, too, though there wasn’t enough of her. Miss Climpson and another enterprising spinster were also entertaining and made valuable contributions to the case.

But! I just about tore my hair out when another confounded will entered the picture. There was a twist involved that made it slightly different than a matter of mere inheritance, but just once, I’d like to read a Sayers book that mentions neither a testatrix nor a legatee! There was also a certain clue that, by the randomness of its inclusion, enabled me to immediately guess the method in which the arsenic was administered.

Despite not being everything I’d hoped for, it was still probably the best of the Sayers so far.

The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club by Dorothy L. Sayers: B+

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From the back cover:
This sinister, engaging case takes aristocratic sleuth Lord Peter Wimsey from London to Paris and then back, to the austere dignity of the Bellona Club. There, 90-year-old General Fentiman was found dead in his favorite wing chair by the fireplace. Oddly, his sister died elsewhere the same day, perhaps within minutes of her brother. Investigating the question of who died first, a critical matter for inheritance, Wimsey grows suspicious about vital rigor mortis evidence. Might it actually be a case of murder? Intricate, elegant, and delightful—quintessential Wimsey.

Review:
There’s a complexity to The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club that is missing from earlier entries in the series. Lord Peter shows a darker side, capable of manipulation or steeliness. He gets into two verbal arguments (both with great dialogue), one even culminating in a fist fight. I am liking this Peter! There’s also more nuance to his relationship with Parker and a bit more sophistication in the plotting. A harbinger of good things to come, methinks.

Some things, however, remain doggedly the same. Yet another will with a strange clause figures into the plot. I have lost track of how many times that has happened now. And, if the perpetrators had had their way, the money would’ve gone to a medical purpose, just like in a couple of the short stories. Sigh.

There are also a couple of leaps in the solution that don’t quite make sense to me. The most major is that the suspect had a big secret and somehow the victim knew it. But I don’t remember it ever being explained how it was known; that bit was just kind of glossed over.

I look forward to the result of these various improvements in characterization combined with a fresher motive. The first person to recommend Sayers to me named the next in the series as one of her favorites, so perhaps I shan’t have long to wait for something satisfying on both levels.