Critical Myth-Interpretations

With the film release approaching at the end of the year, I thought it was finally time to take a look at the oft-praised “His Dark Materials” trilogy.  Considering the fact that I’m not a huge fan of young adult novels, I wondered if the story would have anything to offer.  Thankfully, the themes were far from childish, and I was reminded that a story well-told is always worth the time, regardless of the intended audience.

The plot itself is rather standard for the genre: a young orphan finds herself at the center of a grand scheme, charged with the fulfillment of a grand destiny.  Such stories hold universal appeal, so this is hardly surprising.  What does surprise is the depth of the world that Pullman has created.  In essence, this is an alternate world, and the scientists of Lyra’s society have discovered the existence of parallel universes.

In this particular society, this discovery threatens the intellectual and societal control of the Church.  This is where the inevitable controversy enters the picture.  Many found the depiction of the Church in this novel (and the trilogy, for that matter) to be anti-Christian and definitely anti-Catholic.  I can’t speak for the rest of the story, but in this volume, it’s made clear that those in control of the Church are extremists even by religious standards.

Whatever the case, the humans of this alternate Earth are all connected to “daemons”.  One could interpret the relationship between human and daemon to be a kind of body/soul dynamic.  It is discovered that particles called Dust, essentially described as a kind of “dark matter”, permeate the human body over time.  In turn, some believe that Dust is connected to the idea of “original sin”, and that finding a way to destroy Dust or prevent its integration into the human body is a goal to be pursued.

This becomes a bit complicated, far more than one would expect for a young adult novel, and there are some concepts and motivations that could have been more clearly defined.  That said, it was quite an enjoyable read and definitely worth the time.  I’m looking forward to the film adaptation now!

Rating: 8/10

This particular entry in the James Bond sequence is unique and somewhat controversial.  Instead of focusing on Bond as a protagonist, Fleming chose to tell the story from the perspective of the typical “Bond Girl”.  Bond doesn’t appear until the final third of the book, and he is always seen through the eyes of the young woman who receives his usual “heroic” treatment.

Shortly after completion, Fleming disavowed himself of the final product, reportedly demanding that the book never be published or adapted in any way (other than use of the title).  When the publisher still sent the book to print, Fleming constructed a odd and flimsy meta-reality whereby the “true” author of the book, the lead character, sent him the story to be given to his publisher.  In short, Fleming must have been very unhappy with his final product.

The tone of the novel is, of course, completely unlike the rest of the Bond sequence.  The writing is more stream of consciousness, which makes it a very quick read.  The entire book took me about a day or two to finish.  A lot of time is spent on the young woman’s romantic history and troubled family background, and in general, Fleming does a nice job of depicting how a woman can be mistreated by men “only looking for one thing”.

The trouble comes, as one would expect, once Bond enters the story.  Fleming, to his credit, depicts Bond as a sexist jerk, cold and cruel, in keeping with his original characterization in “Casino Royale”.  He’s anything but the debonair charmer of popular culture.  Yet he is shown to be utterly irresistible to such an adventurous young woman, and that’s where Fleming’s own sexism shines through.

One passage stands out as the most damning.  At one point, Vivienne ponders on the fact that “all women love semi-rape”.  The idea, it seems, is that all women, on some level, desire a man who will use them and force them into a willingly submissive role.  This is in keeping with Fleming’s negative view of women in general, and part of the British culture of the time.  Historically speaking, it’s revealing, but in the end, probably only recommended for devoted Bond fans.

Rating: 5/10

This is the third volume in the Riftwar Legacy series, based loosely on the computer role-playing game “Return to Krondor”.  It also happens to be the final published volume of the series, despite the fact that two concluding volumes were planned.  This situations leaves the book in an odd position, and it’s unlikely that any reader would finish the book satisfied.

As with most of the Riftwar Legacy material, the migration from video game to novel was difficult.  If the novel is any indication (especially the author’s notes), the story was the result of a fractious process, coinciding with business issues and the dissolution of Feist’s marriage.  In the end, the resulting threadbare story reads less like a novel and more like a glorified online walkthrough.  Complete with annoying sidequests; I kid you not.

Having played countless RPGs over the years, I can personally attest that there’s a massive difference between the storytelling demands of a game as compared to the storytelling demands of a novel.  In fact, any RPG fan could explain the difference.  Too much story in a game is a bad thing; it gets in the way of playability.  You just need enough story to hang the active levels together and give the action a meaningful context.  Quite often, plot holes abound, and character arcs are built on easily identified and manageable archetypes.

On the other hand, a novel needs to start with a solid premise and characters that can give the story a purpose.  Once brought into the crucible, the character psychology dictates the path forward.  Because this story was adapted from a game, the characters often act to preserve plot points that fail to evolve organically out of previous events.  As a result, the book never quite makes sense and the reader is never given a reason to invest in what happens.

Rating: 5/10

This particular novel, like much of the recently-reviewed “Totality” trilogy, is set in the months after “Star Trek: Nemesis”.  Unlike those Shatnerverse novels, however, this is a more conventional story involving the Borg.  Several of the characters are in transition, notably Worf, and the title of the book becomes more than just a reference to the infamous Borg tagline.

The title is more applicable to Worf’s character arc than the plot arc itself.  The author recalls a rather important character-based episode from “Deep Space Nine” and makes it relevant to the post-“Nemesis” world.  Worf is approved as the permanent first officer for the refit Enterprise, but he refuses the posting based on his shame from that previous experience.  It takes a difficult command situation, as one would expect, to bring him to the realization that his honor is intact.  (The presence of a hot Vulcan counselor doesn’t hurt.)

The plot overwhelms the character arc with a scenario that is very hard to swallow.  Picard starts to hear the Borg in his head again, so he defies Starfleet Command to take care of the threat.  After some initial resistance by the Borg, incorporating a heightened degree of violence, Picard jumps to the conclusion that the only option is re-integrating with the Collective and becoming Locutus once more.

The author treats this decision as inevitable, but the logic is never addressed and the objections by characters are quickly dismissed.  The reader is expected to go along with the idea in service to the plot.  Unfortunately, the purpose of Picard’s loss to the Collective is quite obvious, since some excuse is needed to bring Worf into command.

The resolution to the problem of Locutus and the new Borg Queen is essentially a means of explaining why the original Borg Queen was killed in “Star Trek: First Contact” yet reappeared with no rationale in various episodes of “Voyager”.  The explanation is turned into a technobabble explanation for the quick and easy elimination of the new Borg threat.  Equally easy is the restoration of Picard, which happens off the page and barely gets mentioned.  In short, the plot felt contrived from the very beginning, with the ending never in doubt, and that’s never good for a modern Trek novel.

Rating: 6/10

It’s been quite a while since I’ve read “The Onion Girl”, the previous book in the long-running Newford series of novels.  That book left Jilly Coppercorn recovering from a horrible accident and still broken in a number of ways, all stretching back to her incredibly abusive childhood.  It was a difficult place to leave the characters, to say the least.

This novel is largely a direct extension of that previous Newford novel, dealing with the details of Jilly’s recovery and her relationship with another long-standing character, Geordie Riddell.  The two of them have been circling each other from the very beginning, and it’s about time that the topic was covered.  Combining it with the moment of Jilly’s emotional and psychological recovery was a great move.  In fact, by the end of the book, it feels like the author is bringing the Newford saga to a close, giving most of the recurring characters a fond and relatively happy farewell.

The hook into that story actually involves a cast of minor characters, especially Lizzie.  Lizzie and her band, despite the length of the novel, feel somewhat undeveloped.  This is unfortunate, since there are certain character beats within the story that would be much better if we knew Lizzie more completely.  Instead, Lizzie and the others feel like stereotypical de Lint characters, deeply rooted in the Celtic musical scene.

The author also chose to shift between past and present tense without warning, on top of an odd penchant for switching between first- and third-person.  This interrupts the flow of the novel, constantly forcing the reader to adjust.  I’m not sure why de Lint chose to employ such a writing style, but over the course of 560 pages, it gets tedious.

Rating: 8/10

This is the third and final volume of the “Totality” trilogy in the Shatnerverse, and by my accounting, manages to close out the story in strong fashion. Considering how the story began, with a rather small-scale story centered on Bajor, it’s surprising to find the story taking on epic proportions as seen in this novel.

The nature of the Totality is revealed, and it’s one of the more interesting ideas in recent Trek novels. The Totality is the form of life prevalent in “dark matter/dark energy”, and they see biological life as an isolated aberration. The Totality has been jumping from galaxy to galaxy with the intention of helping the biological lifeforms achieve their level of happiness and unity. They don’t understand the need, as expressed by biological life, to remain autonomous.

As expected, Kirk’s son Joseph and his unique abilities factor into the victory over the Totality. The authors tie Joseph’s nature into the Progenitor race from the TNG episode “The Chase” and the infamous galactic energy barrier from “Where No Man Has Gone Before”. In a certain sense, that connection brings Kirk’s story full circle, which gives the story more depth.

Conceptually, I’m not convinced that the idea of “dark matter/energy beings” received the kind of attention and creative treatment that might have otherwise been possible. The concept was developed with the Trek universe in mind, right down to Norinda’s seductive appearance. There were a number of confusing aspects to Norinda’s nature and interaction with Joseph at the end of the book as well. Those two items kept the book from reaching its full potential.

Rating: 8/10

Now that I’ve read the main sequence novels for the Dragonlance franchise, more or less catching me up with the story, I’ve decided to turn to some of the supplementary novels that inevitably fill the bookshelves.  The nature of the Dragonlance is such that the main novels are the backbone, focusing on a handful of core characters and epic situations.  Tons of side stories are mentioned but barely explored.

This leads to an intriguing example of stratified myth-making.  The core novels by Weis and Hickman would be, in essence, how the annals of history might treat events.  A second tier of novels delves more deeply into the localized cultural interpretations and histories.  The third tier lies beneath, perhaps carving out a specific hero’s journey through the filter of regional interpretations.  The fourth and final tier expands beyond the typical confines of Ansalon into other parts of the world, showing how the events in the first tier affect the entire world of Krynn.

In other words, as with the world we know, history changes from place to place, perspective to perspective, and it’s all through the filter of time.  It’s the difference between the myths of Athens and Rome, despite the similarities and analogues, the tales diverge based on regional and cultural designs.  The attempt to keep the franchise continuity as tight as possible, despite the clear differences in writing styles, only serves to enhance the depth of the mythological construct.  All this, from a franchise of pulp fantasy novels!

This particular book is set during the “Chaos War” period, covered in the core novel “Dragons of Summer Flame”.  It falls solidly in the second tier, expanding on the information given in the core novel.  Despite the title, this is not simply a novel about Gilthas and his unfortunate situation in Qualinost.  It covers the political and cultural issues in play with both Elvan nations, from the fate of Porthios to Gilthas’ rise as an actual leader of his people.  All of which sounds arcane without the necessary background, of course, but knowing where events would proceed into the “War of Souls”, this sheds light on a difficult character.

Rating: 7/10