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defrog
I read books. You read book reports. And isn't it lovely how that worked out?JUST FINISHED
House Dick by E. Howard Hunt
Yes, that would be the same E. Howard Hunt who was a CIA agent and did time for the Watergate break-in. Apparently he also wrote pulp novels in his spare time – including this (reprinted by Hard Case Crime), a 1961 crime noir about a hotel detective in Washington DC who gets mixed up with an ash blonde, a jewel heist, a blackmail plot and (of course) murder. It’s actually not bad, even if it does try too hard to emulate Raymond Chandler’s hard-boiled cynicism and depends on the title character, Pete Novak, doing things that only make sense in pulp noir. Still, the story’s okay, and the whole thing has a kind of cynical charm to it. And I like the idea of a hotel detective as a pulp noir protagonist. That said, I fully admit I mainly picked it up for the Watergate novelty value, so I don't think I’d become a regular reader. But if I come across any of his other books, I’ll probably at least pick them up for a look.
JUST STARTED
The Year Of The Flood by Margaret Atwood
The sequel to Oryx and Crake (which I rather enjoyed) which takes place in the same dystopian future in which gene-splicing is commonplace and society has become over-commercialized and governed by corporate interests, until a synthesized virus wipes out most of humanity. This installment follows two different characters – both former members of the same back-to-nature religious cult – so it will be interesting to see where Atwood goes with this.
RECENT TITLES
The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury
Having rekindled my interest in Bradbury with The Martian Chronicles, I followed up with this classic collection of stories, loosely packaged together with the idea of an “illustrated man” – a man with tattoos that come alive and tell stories. The tattoo gimmick is ultimately unnecessary, but the stories themselves are dazzlingly, grimly inventive snippets of sci-fi. Highly recommended.
Burmese Days by George Orwell
Considering Orwell wrote two of the most influential books of my impressionable teenage years (i.e. the two you’ve probably heard of), you’d think I’d read more of him. So aiming to fix that, I decided to start with this, his first novel, based on his experience in Burma (still a British colony at the time). This being Orwell, it’s a scathing portrait of racist colonial life, Third-World exploitation and authoritarian corruption, with no happy ending at all. The story relies too much on melodrama for my taste, but a lot of it rings true.
Star Island by Carl Hiaasen
After a bit of a hiatus, Hiaasen returns with another funny, angry novel, this one aimed squarely at celebrity culture, tabloids and the likes of Lindsay Lohan – or in this case, Cherry Pye, a spoiled pop star with no talent and major substance abuse issues. A sleazy paparazzo obsessed with Cherry accidently kidnaps her body double Ann (who fills in for Cherry in public when she’s too busy ODing). Hilarity ensues. As usual, Hiaasen fires with both barrels and gives his satirical targets the merciless bollocking they deserve.
Planet Of The Apes by Pierre Boulle
It’s amazing it’s taken me this long to get around to reading this, despite being a fan of the original films and knowing that they were very different from the book. That said, it’s hard to read it without thinking of the movies, and the twist ending, while technically different from the films, doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. That said, credit to Boulle for coming up with a really good social satire (if a little melodramatic at times).
GAVE UP
The Dispossessed by Ursula K LeGuin
One of those classic SF books by one of those classic SF authors I’ve never read but been told repeatedly I should. So I did. And I just couldn’t get into it. I’m not sure if it’s because of the dense prose or the confusing (to me) back and forth narrative between the two planets of Arras and Urras, the political relationship between them, and what the protagonist Shevek has to do with any of this. Whatever the reason, it didn’t really engage me at all. Put another way, I felt the same way about it as I did when I first tried reading Dune. So I gave up after about 70 pages or so. I’m not saying I wouldn’t try LeGuin again, but I’ll need some extra motivation to do so.
Starting over,
This is dF
