King Solomon’s Carpet by Barbara Vine, 1991

Read in 2007

Synopsis: King Solomon's magic carpet is the London Underground, running past the disused old school building that houses the most ill- assorted covey that Vine (Ruth Rendell) has brought together since A Fatal Inversion for this updating of Conrad's novel of terrorist conspiracy, The Secret Agent. Tom Murray is a promising musician reduced to illegal busking in Underground stations and a sad little love affair with his accompanist Alice, who left her husband and newborn baby, taking only her violin. Together with Jasper Darne, another dropout from his family who likes to ride on the tops of Underground carriages, and Jed Lowrie, a Safeguard volunteer who's left behind his own family to live for his hunting hawk Abelard, they live in a failed schoolhouse--whose bell tolled for the only time in memory when the headmaster hanged himself from its rope. The school's owned by the old man's grandson, Jarv Stringer, who now passes the time by writing a book on the Underground and taking in waifs and strays while his aunt Cecilia Darne, Jasper's grandmother, quietly declines around the corner under the variously watchful eyes of her relatives and her longtime companion Daphne Bleech-Palmer. The apple of discord in this extended, dysfunctional family is sinister Axel Jonas, who rides the trains with a dancing bear, actually a man named Ivan, until Jasper one day leads him to Jarvis's, where he takes up residence, seduces Alice, and begins to gather details about the operation of the Underground in preparation for a cataclysmic bombing.

Another Vine I couldn't really get into. The inclusion of text from a fictional book about the distinctly real London Underground was distracting and to me, didn't help with the plot or atmosphere. Ditto for some of the scenes showing how dangerous it could be for the uninitiated (the rich woman at the beginning who is trampled to death) or the stupid (Jasper's train roof riding). It just didn't convey anything for me since the essential plot seemed to be the manipulative useage of the unwary innocent.

It starts out by introducing Jarvis, train nut and inheritor of a dilapidated former primary school. He has just enough money to keep himself, but decides to supplement his income by 'renting' rooms to folks who appear to be needy. He gathers a group of down-and-outs and borderline losers around him. All are quirky, damaged and at times at odds with each other. On an extended journey out of the country to research his book, an enterprising Axel Jonas worms his way into the household and begins manipulating people at close range. His real target was Jarvis himself, but will make do with the ones who are left. His efforts coalesce around gaining access to parts of the underground that are normally off limits. Reports of bombs and other disturbances are peppered throughout the narrative. It's clear that Axel and his pal Ivan are responsible.

Through a subtle reign of terror, Axel succeeds in putting the entire household into an uproar. Alliances and romances are broken. Children are frightened. Underlying psychological weaknesses are exploited. Overall that is a disturbingly interesting thing to read about. Axel was a very nicely written sociopath. I understood how people either fell under his spell or were instantly (and sometimes inexplicably) repelled.

But nothing much ever really happened. What did was presented as mundane and trivial. People are robbed. Mothers acknowledge their daughter's lies and manipulations. Children defy adults and put themselves at great bodily risk. Old women have strokes and come to realize that they have always been in love with their best friend. It's all sort of interesting, in a voyeuristic way, but none of it touched me at all. These people were just actors giving me a show. Weird since I usually connect more with Vine's characters.

The ending is fairly tense, but again, things seem disconnected and the wrap up is ambiguous as usual. That didn't bother me, but the dispassionate presentation did.

Darwin’s Children by Greg Bear, 2003

Read in 2007

Synopsis: Darwin's Children, Greg Bear's follow-up to Darwin's Radio, is top-shelf science fiction, thrilling and intellectually charged. It's no standalone, though. The plot and characters are certainly independent of the previous novel, but the background in Darwin's Radio is essential to nonbiologists trying to understand what's going on. The next stage of human evolution has arrived, announced by the birth of bizarre "virus children." Now the children with the hypersenses and odd faces are growing up, and the world has to figure out what to do with them. The answer is evil and all too human, as governments put the kids in camps to protect regular folks from imagined dangers. Mitch and Kaye, scientists whose daughter Stella is swept up in the fray, become unwillingly involved in the politics that erupt around the issue of the new humans. Harrowing chases, gun battles, epidemics, and tense meetings about civil rights ensue, all brilliantly narrated. But just when you think you've got the book figured out, Bear throws a massive curveball by introducing... religion. That's right, a good old-fashioned epiphany, plopped down in the middle of a hard science fiction novel. But even skeptical readers will be swept along with Kaye as she tries to deal with what's happening to her and how it relates to the fate of her daughter's species.

Nice sequel. Good writing, pacing & plot development. Interesting and understandable science. Excellent human drama. All the things I love about Greg Bear. Reading this makes me want to bring about some kind of change in our species right now. It's fascinating and wonderful to peek in on Bear's imagination of our future.

One of the things that's funny and patently obvious in this novel, is how caught up in the right now humanity is. Our life spans are so short, that we cannot see anything in perspective. Biological time has almost no meaning and geological none. The inevitability of the Sheva virus is inescapable. Try as we might to put it down and eradicate it, evolution will win out in the end. Our emotional attachment to the earth as it is at this minute is really very funny, but also has some interesting ironies. We lament the fact that humanity is ostensibly the cause of "global warming", but I haven't heard one person say we should actually make less people. Funny. And so what if the earth is warming (it's done so before and quite without human intervention). Things will not end, they will only change. And that's what we fear so much. Darwin's Radio & Darwin's Children are about exactly that; change, our fear of it, and what results because of that fear.

Hard Truth by Nevada Barr, 2007

Read in 2007

Synopsis: Just three days after her wedding to Sheriff Paul Davidson, Anna Pigeon moves from Mississippi to Colorado to assume her new post as district ranger at Rocky Mountain National Park, where three young girls have disappeared during a religious retreat. Two of the children emerge a month later, clad only in filthy underwear and claiming to remember nothing of the intervening weeks. The girls are traumatized but forge a bond with the pair of campers who discovered them - a wheelchair-bound paraplegic and her elderly aunt.

With the reappearance of the children comes an odd and unsettling presence in the park, a sense of disembodied evil and unspeakable terror: small animals are mercilessly slaughtered and a sinister force seems to still control the girls. As Anna investigates, she finds herself caught up in the machinations of a paranoid religious sect determined to keep their secrets and the girls sequestered from law enforcement and psychiatric help.

Following the trails of the many suspects, especially that of the cult's intense youth group leader, Anna discovers the force which has destroyed the children's minds. Here in the park, evil has the eyes of a visionary and the soul of the devil. Anna will discover the truth-even if it kills her.

I wasn't prepared for the brutality of the final pages and ultimately skimmed them. After reading pretty much this whole series, it surprised me. Also, the absence of Paul surprised me. I guess Barr just isn't ready for Anna to be married just yet.

Plotwise, it fell into typical pattern. Anna is working in yet another National Park. This time she has some rank and in her familiar role of new kid on the block. Obvious and less obvious suspects are presented, and one is depicted in such a way that I knew he couldn't be guilty. Immediately I started looking at the less obvious and pretty much found the guilty party, I just didn't know how sick and twisted a character that person would turn out to be. There were also some things that didn't make sense to me, that maybe are explained in the pages I couldn't deal with. Like whose finger was it anyway and how did Anna connect her criminal with the cases she brings up at the end; murders out of state? But I'm not going to go and find the answer, I'm good.

I should have known this book would ratchet up my emotions to a high degree. It featured a cultish clan of "Christians" that was remarkably close to the fringe groups of Mormons; virtually enslaving women and creating a brothel of underage girls for the picking of dirty old pedophiles masquerading as righteous men. Sickening in its own right, but the lengths with which the killer goes to create different kind of twisted little clan is equally chilling. Barr really went all out with this one.

Echoes by Maeve Binchy, 1985

Read in 2007

Synopsis: Clare and David--divided as children by a rigid social code that branded her as shanty Irish and him as gentry...brought together as adults by a desire that knew no class, no barriers, only the urgent hunger of two people destined to love--and ready to defy a world determined to keep them apart.

Even at fifteen, David Power knew the echo would answer eleven-year-old Clare O'Brien's dearest wish, to win a school prize. But it was years before Dr. Power's cherished only son saw in the huckster's daughter the answer to his own heart's desire. Here in Castlebay, perched precariously on the seaside cliffs, the lines between them were clearly drawn. Clare's only hope is to leave the town where time stopped, propelled by scholarships to Dublin, fueled by her own drive and brilliance, far from the insular, gossipy world of Castlebay and those in its thrall... Angela O'Hara, beautiful, insolated, a teacher trapped in the convent school, who risks everything to help Clare escape... Gerry Doyle, the town charmer who finds in Clare the woman he vows to have at any price... Caroline Nolan, the beautiful, rich outsider who comes to plunder...

For Clare, that was before the wild freedom of Dublin, and love. And David. Before fate drove them back to Castlebay, and the past...

Every once in a while, I need a story where I know that things will turn out all right in the end. Maeve Binchy always delivers, although with this story, things came a bit close to not turning out ok. As endings go, this is probably the least happy I've read from her. It surprised me and I liked that.

This one does not deviate from the normal Binchy pattern –

Small Irish town – check

Headstrong female protagonist – check

Oppressive Irish tradition – check

Going against the grain, but accepted in the end – check

Multiple romances – check

Rejection of the big city (Dublin) - check

A small town becoming suddenly prosperous and popular – check

People finding their places in life & being happy in them - check

Some minor tragedies, nothing earthshattering – check

A happy ending – check

These books are comfort books for me in some sense. When I don't want excitement and danger of too high a degree, I look for one of these warm tales of people overcoming odds and sharing their lives with remarkable patience and open communication. Makes me sort of long for that kind of world, but then I remember how stifling the closeness of those Irish villages are and how I would hate it, even if I had my own happy ending.

The Prestige by Christopher Priest, 1996

Read in 2007

Synopsis: In 1878, two young stage magicians clash in the dark during the course of a fraudulent séance. From this moment on, their lives become webs of deceit and revelation as they vie to outwit and expose one another. Their rivalry will take them to the peaks of their careers, but with terrible consequences. In the course of pursuing each other's ruin, they will deploy all the deception their magicians' craft can command--the highest misdirection and the darkest science. Blood will be spilled, but it will not be enough. In the end, their legacy will pass on for generations...to descendants who must, for their sanity's sake, untangle the puzzle left to them.

This was a case of the movie is vastly different from the book if I ever saw one. Wow. Basically only the names and professions of the company were preserved - almost every other element was changed. Both are very, very good in their own ways though. I understand the liberties and changes that had to be taken for the movie to work properly, but so very much was left out. There is no Michael Caine character with a nice explanation of the prestige - in the novel, the reason for the book's title is much more sinister and of greater importance.

We have a modern-day couple of descendents of both magicians. They are in possession of diaries of both men. The diaries tell about their great rivalry and what happened to put them at odds with each other. The reason given in the movie is not the same reason as in the novel. As the two great-great-grand kids read the diaries, they find clues to events that happened when they were kids. GGG-son is convinced he has a twin brother even though there is no evidence, and GGG-daughter is convinced that Andrew has been to the house before even though he has no memory of it. Once we understand the nature of Algeir's trick with the Tesla device and GGG-daughter relates the incident of Andrew's supposed first visit to her house, we get a fairly horrifying understanding of what happened.

This is a much more paranormal angle than the movie presents. In the movie, Algier goes to Tesla (on Borden's urging, to ostensibly throw him off track of Borden's real secret) to find a device to create a trick to rival Borden's. His understanding of magic is more limited than Borden's and he doesn't make creative leaps and only understands a trick when he's told the secret. This is part of the irony when Algier and Tesla stumble on `real' magic. The price is the prestige. The illusion was so grand that Algier could command great fees and also great license with the theaters - he closed the set, much to the annoyance of the crew.

Borden now has to relentlessly pursue the secret to Algier's improved Transported Man. Both Bordens. If I had not known there were two, the book would not have illuminated that as well as the movie does. There are some clues in the writing - Borden referring to himself as me and I in a sense that conveys another person reading and writing. As in the movie, his wife, girlfriend and assistants have no idea. Only his engineer knows there are two. It was a very precarious way to `live' a life. Bizarre and difficult, I can't imagine it succeeding outside of fiction.

The pursuit of the ruin of each other is what drove Algier and Borden. Not just fame and fortune in their own right, but if they would be won at the expense of the rival, all the better. Algier still sets a spy among Borden's crew and that spy eventually turns against her master, delivering the false clue as a parting gesture.

I found the returns to the present a bit jarring because my immersion in the world of 19th century magic was so complete. Both Borden and Algier are equally despicable. Borden is more vicious and physical with his attempt at ruining Algier, but Algier is no saint. And physicality does enter into the equation with a vengeance and a finality that brings the story to an end. The ending is a bit out of nowhere, but is haunting and deliciously ambiguous.

The Devil You Know by Mike Carey, 2007

Read in 2007

Synopsis: Felix Castor is a freelance exorcist, and London is his stamping ground. It may seem like a good ghostbuster can charge what he likes and enjoy a hell of a lifestyle--but there's a risk: Sooner or later he's going to take on a spirit that's too strong for him. While trying to back out of this ill-conceived career, Castor accepts a seemingly simple ghost-hunting case at a museum in the shadowy heart of London--just to pay the bills, you understand. But what should have been a perfectly straightforward exorcism is rapidly turning into the Who Can Kill Castor First Show, with demons and ghosts all keen to claim the big prize. That's OK: Castor knows how to deal with the dead. It's the living who piss him off...

Not sure if magical realism is for me or not, but I do think that it injects something new and weird into the standard detective novel. That's basically what The Devil You Know is; a detective story. Felix is rather typical of the breed; a loner who has a well developed sense of justice and a nose for intrigue. So far, none of Felix's vices have surfaced, unless you count sex, but I don't think he's out of control on that front. He has an easier time of making friends and allies than the average guy in his position, but makes enemies just as quickly. I found his toughness a bit hard to take since it was so unevenly distributed and seemed to come from nowhere. It was nice that the author didn't hand feed us every detail of his past or present and it creates some mystery. It will also make for less tedious future books.

The story of avenging a dead person who is trying to affect her own revenge is pretty funny. Felix and the ghost end up as partners in this endeavor, although Felix is at a distinct disadvantage because the ghost can't communicate well. Cryptic hints are given and followed up on and a nasty villain shows his ugly mug. Deception and double-crosses abound and I found the employees of the archive to be fairly well done for the supporting roles they had. The non-earthly supporting characters are good as well. I feared they would be overdone, dripping with cliché and tiresome. They weren't. One of them I especially look forward to meeting again and seeing if anything progresses. One demon in particular was pretty easy to be a step ahead of – as soon as she let Felix go, I knew there would be an uneasy truce and bargain made later. This alone should make the upcoming installments very interesting.

The supernatural element keeps things from the constraints of a regular detective tale – things can inexplicably just happen and no one bats an eye because that's just what ghosts/demons/zombies do. That creates a situation where the author has to balance precariously between the mundane and the absurd. Too far in either direction would just ruin the atmosphere and become unintentionally funny or really boring. Luckily, Carey seems to have the right skilz.

The Chess Machine by Robert Lohr, 2007

Read in 2007

Synopsis: Based on a true story, The Chess Machine is the breathtaking historical adventure of a legendary invention that astounded all who crossed its path

Vienna 1770: Baron Wolfgang von Kempelen unveils a strange and amazing invention, the Mechanical Turk, a sensational and unbeatable chess-playing automaton. But what the Habsburg court hails as the greatest innovation of the century is really nothing more than a brilliant illusion. The chess machine is secretly operated from inside by the Italian dwarf Tibor, a God-fearing social outcast whose chess-playing abilities and diminutive size make him the perfect accomplice in this grand hoax.

Von Kempelen and his helpers tour his remarkable invention all around Europe to amaze and entertain the public, but despite many valiant attempts and close calls, no one is able to beat the extraordinary chess machine. The crowds all across Europe adore the Turk, and the success of Baron von Kempelen seems assured. But when a beautiful and seductive countess dies under mysterious circumstances in the presence of the automaton, the Mechanical Turk falls under a cloud of suspicion, and the machine and his inventor become the targets of espionage, persecution, and aristocratic intrigue. What is the dark secret behind this automaton and what strange powers does it hold? The Chess Machine is a daring and remarkable tale, based on a true story, full of envy, lust, scandal and deception.

The idea that this was based on actual events intrigued me, but I soon realized that it was mostly fiction. The actual events associated with von Kempelen's chess machine are not well documented and the actual machine is long lost. I was hoping that we had diaries or letters or some such to draw from, but we don't and the author's imagination had to fill in much of the story.

That's not to say the story wasn't interesting or compelling. It was. The story is told in mostly the linear style with occasional flashes forward in time. This reassures us that certain characters prevail or at least survive, but does not diminish the suspense; we want to know what happened and how. The human element was obviously the most fascinating. As soon as von Kempelen 'rescued' Tibor, I knew it would only be a matter of time until it became strained. The balance of power in that relationship was very much on the side of Tibor until von Kempelen managed to tie Tibor to a murder. When Tibor tired of being the chess machine's brain and tried to make a break for freedom, von Kempelen's threats of exposure, prison and possible execution transformed his at will chess-playing to virtual enslavement.

Von Kempelen could not separate his life from the machine no matter how ruinous it became for him. The dead woman's brother wished revenge. His wife begged him to give up the chess machine. A rival machinist, still stung by his loss to The Turk, planted a spy in von Kempelen's household to ferret out the secret of the chess automaton. Tibor was tired and his engineer wanted to leave his employ as well. But von Kempelen would not stop. He craved the fame and fortune that came with exhibiting The Turk. He also feared he would never be able to top it.

The Turk itself is very interesting and at the same time, hard to imagine. We've come so far from mechanical clockwork devices that it's difficult to envision such a contraption. It was basically a large cabinet with a mechanical man built into the side and facing a chessboard on its surface. The automaton was dressed as a Turk and thus the name. The cabinet design concealed a compartment where Tibor would work the machinery and execute The Turk's moves. This was done without direct visual aid and depended too much on ideal circumstances. When the Empress decides that her match must take place outside in the blazing summer sun it becomes a disaster.

It was touted as a thinking machine which is unimaginable to me because of its mechanical nature. How could anyone think that this collection of gears and wheels could actually reason? But as clockwork was the height of machinery advancement, the people thought it could. Except for the rival machinist who knew there had to be a trick. This man turned over many ideas in his head about what could really be driving the automaton. Maybe it was von Kempelen himself since he was never far from the apparatus during play. He even checked the inside to see if there was a man in there (the cabinet itself was so cleverly designed, people could look right in both sides and never see Tibor). But since the cabinet was too small for a regular sized person to hide in he dismissed the idea without it occurring to him that it might be a dwarf. The attitudes toward dwarves by the normally statured are astounding to me; they were abominations or works of the devil and many people didn't even count them as human. Of course it didn't occur to them that one might be the secret to the whole operation.

The writing is fairly straightforward and reads somewhat like an encyclopedia. I'm not sure if this is due to the author or the translation. What is lost in verve is made up for in pacing and plot structure. Luckily for me, as I'm not a chess player nor have much interest in the game, not much of the novel is taken up by play information or lots of boring lists of moves or gambits. It is interesting though to read about how popular a pastime it was and how so many people could play. The ending is a bit weak, but it does build a great amount of tension so the calmness of the final chapter is necessary. There are some nice comeuppances along the way, too, but no revenge is complete.

There are few sympathetic characters. Tibor himself is the most sympathetic. Dwarfism is a heavy burden for him and he seems to go from master to master and has not lived a truly independent life. He is also often targeted for theft, betrayal and cruel practical jokes. He is very religious and his transgressions and sins really trouble him. The author says he transformed von Kempelen's true character as recorded by his contemporaries, but he had to for the sake of the fiction he wove around the facts. It is too bad there isn't more documentation, but given the heavy secrecy surrounding The Turk, it's not surprising. It's also quite sad that the automaton itself hasn't survived. It would be something to see.