Faerie Wars

Faerie Wars by Herbie Brennan

Grade: C+

I really wanted to like this book. It has a beautiful cover, blue with gold embossed lettering and the image of a butterfly. It has a comfortable weight and the binding is great (my softcover copy has been read twice but still looks brand-new). I wish all books were so well-made.

The quality of the writing is mixed. When I say that a book is well-written, what I mean is that the text doesn’t jar. You get drawn in and forget that you’re reading; there’s no awkwardness to make you stumble and remind you that the story is coming in the form of words rather than thoughts and images. Faerie Wars is mostly well-written, but it has some majorly jarring elements, and they make you want to cry because the rest of the story flows so well.

Some of the characters are unforgivably boring. For example, there’s nothing about Henry, the character with whom the story begins, that makes him stand out. He’s just a boy who does odd jobs for a wacky old guy. He’s supposed to be a main character but he really doesn’t do much. He could have been completely left out of the story with no harm done. Ditto his best friend, who is mentioned a couple of times but seen only long enough for her to tell the lame story of how her mother remarried.

It is Henry’s family problems that truly ruin this book. His mother is having an affair with his father’s female secretary. How could anyone think that was appropriate subject matter for the target audience? And it’s so unnecessary. You could literally cut out every scene that mentions it and no one would be the wiser. The lesbian subplot seems in particularly poor taste when juxtaposed with the title and main subject, since “fairy” is a a derogatory term for a gay man.

I have other complaints, but I think all of this book’s failures could have been fixed by a good editor. It had promise, but a reasonably good plot and an inherently pleasant writing style are not enough. Why wasn’t it edited more? It seems everyone’s rushing to get fantasy books into print and to market them with a Harry Potter spin in order to take advantage of Rowling’s success. If they’d taken as much effort with the editing as they did with the marketing and packaging, Faerie Wars could have been something special. Too bad.

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Critical Cure

There is no such thing as writer’s block. A writer can always write. That is, a writer can always take words and combine them to make sentences. “Writer’s block” is really a catchall term for any one of several problems that a writer can encounter, such as not having a good subject, not knowing what will happen next in the story, not being happy with one’s writing, etc. That’s me. Those are my problems.

There’s only one cure. I have to write. I have to write whatever I can and without expectations or judgments. The easiest place to start is with something relatively unimportant, like a book review. One book review coming up . . .

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Writer’s Block

I have a terrible case of writer’s block, so please forgive the scarcity of posts. It’s only a temporary thing. I hope.

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Best Present Ever

I had a birthday this week. My Faithful Reader and I attempted to celebrate the day with a trip to Newport. The goal was to enjoy the afternoon on the fabled Cliff Walk, a paved 3.5-mile path that runs between Newport’s mansions and its craggy, surf-pounded coast. We also planned to have dinner at one of the town’s many fine restaurants.

We parked near First Beach, which is rather remarkable in that the waves crashing on it appear to be red. I called them “bloody waves.” My Faithful Reader, who knows the area well, explained that the phenomenon was caused by a red seaweed. Nonetheless, it gave me a feeling of foreboding. Continue reading

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Nostalgia

I just found the instructions for snow removal at my old condo complex. It made me sad because I won’t be there for the winter. I won’t be walking along the shore during the snowfall, collecting jingle shells, listening to the hiss of snowflakes hitting the water and the raucous chatter of wild parakeets. I won’t be looking up in wonder at those marvelous living tree ornaments, wondering how parakeets can survive the Connecticut cold, even if they do huddle together in their giant nests.

I also won’t be shoveling the deck and the stairs and my parking spaces.

Nostalgia over.

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Kilgore Trout Rules

My favorite quote from God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater:

[The ex-con] was a quiet, cynical, resentful man. He had never thanked Eliot for anything. Eliot was neither hurt nor startled. He was used to ingratitude. One of his favorite Kilgore Trout books dealt with ingratitude and nothing else. It was called, “The First District Court of Thankyou,” which was a court you could take people to, if you felt they hadn’t been properly grateful for something you had done. If the defendant lost his case, the court gave him a choice between thanking the plaintiff in public, or going into solitary confinement on bread and water for a month. According to Trout, eighty per cent of those convicted chose the black hole.

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God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater

“That’s one of the troubles with this country,” said the Senator. “The Madison Avenue people have made us all more alarmed about our own armpits than about Russia, China and Cuba combined.”excerpt from God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater by Kurt Vonnegut

You got it, Vonnegut! If we would just give up deodorant and accept that our pits stink, we’d rule the world!

Grade: B+

God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater gets a lower grade than any of the other Vonnegut novels so far because I didn’t like the main character very much, there was an overwhelming sense of futility, and the ending felt rushed.

Eliot (Mr. Rosewater) is a mentally-imbalanced drunk who tries to do good by spending all of his time and much of his enormous wealth on the “useless” people of society. I personally don’t care for the idea that anyone is useless, but some of the characters in this novel certainly are. No one has to be useless, though, and I think that’s part of what bugs me about this book—Eliot helps the useless people without trying to better them. I realize that most attempts at bettering people are motivated by self-righteousness and involve pushing Jesus like a drug. It is a selfless thing to help someone without trying to change them, but it is often futile. As I look back on the events of the novel, the whole thing was futile. No one ever seemed to get what they really wanted or needed.

The book has great bits involving Kilgore Trout, the best fictional writer of all time, so Vonnegut fans will want to give it a go, but those who have never read Vonnegut before should not start with this one.

The next book in the Vonnegut Marathon is my favorite, Slaughterhouse-Five. I can’t find my copy so I’ll have to borrow one from the library. I’ll probably start it in a week or two.

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How Corny!

I am grateful for kettle corn.

At the fair on Sunday, we couldn’t resist the sweet aroma of kettle corn. Kettle corn is lightly coated in sugar, which gives it a delicate crunch and, as I discovered today, helps to keep it from going stale. It’s so much better than your average caramel or buttered popcorn. As a child, I looked forward to fairs partly for the cotton candy and fried dough. Those treats tasted great back then, but they don’t suit my adult palate. I’m glad I found a new food to enjoy at fairs!

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More from Darkover

I recently read Darkover Landfall by Marion Zimmer Bradley.

Grade: B

A decent book. Some of the characters behaved in ways that I found peculiar, particularly with regards to sex and childbearing, though I wonder if my modern mindset is to blame for that perception. The expectations of both men and women have changed since 1972, the year when this novel was published. Overall, it’s a fun introduction to the planet of Darkover and required reading for any fan of the series.

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Sunday Slacker

Really, I’m not a slacker. It was just a busy Sunday.

My Faithful Reader and I went to Brimfield for the antique fair and to hang out with K—, who happened to be in the area. We had lunch at the fair. I had a Pilgrim Sandwich (turkey, cranberry sauce, and stuffing on a sub roll—yum!). Many of the antique dealers packed up early, which was sad, but there were still enough of them around to keep us busy for a few hours. I was tempted by some sweet potato ocarinas, a golden dragon pendant, an art-deco butterfly dish, and a Tom Swift book. I was horrified by a lamp, the base of which was made from the legs and hooves of some long-dead animal.

When we’d had enough wandering among the tents-of-many-treasures, we said goodbye to K— and headed to Sturbridge to check out the Hyland Orchard & Brewery. We walked through the petting zoo, paid our respects to the geese and goats, and petted the emu. Then we took a seat in the picnic area and enjoyed one of the brewery offerings, an amber ale, which was decent. It was a nice place and I’d be willing to go again, especially as the weather gets cooler and I start thinking about apple pie.

The drive home went quickly. Once home, we filled our bellies with dinner while watching Journey to the Bottom of the Sea. Barbara Eden was in the movie but she didn’t grant my wish that it be good. Then I bought a new computer (Happy Birthday to me!). Suddenly it was midnight and Sunday became Monday. It was too late for storytelling. Oops.

I will make up for it next week with two story posts, so come back Sunday!

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