television

Sense and Sensibility (2008) is a three-part BBC adaptation of the classic novel by Jane Austen starring Hattie Morahan as Elinor Dashwood, Charity Wakefield as Marianne Dashwood, Dominic Cooper as Willoughby, and Dan Stevens as Edward Ferrars. One of the points of the novel is the difference between Elinor and Marianne. My own preference, for what it’s worth, is a Marianne who’s a victim of her choice in reading material. Such is her passion for romantic fiction and poetry that she develops an unrealistic view of the world. This colours her actions and attitudes at every point. Elinor, on the other hand, is the epitome of practicality. If she does allow herself dreams of what might be, they are firmly recognised for what they are and subservient to more immediate needs. Yet although Hattie Morahan’s Elinor seems to be striking the right notes, Charity Wakefield’s Marianne seems cut from a similar cloth. Indeed, until we get to her overreaction in meeting Willoughby, she’s been rather more constructive and accepting of their fate in being banished to the wilderness than I would have believed possible. That said, once at the cottage, Marianne is allowed to behave in a completely uncivilised manner without sanction. She wilfully snubs poor Colonel Brandon (David Morrissey) who’s kept waiting for an unconscionable length of time, and her reward is to be carried back into the house by Willoughby — neither Elinor nor her mother (Janet McTeer) attempt to correct her barbaric lack of manners.

The Dashwoods — Janet McTeer, Hattie Morahan, Charity Wakefield and Lucy Boynton

Willoughby is generally shown to be at the very least culturally insensitive over the offer of the horse and then in whisking Marianne off when Colonel Brandon’s picnic is abruptly cancelled. The slightly scary obviousness of his intentions lead the neighbourhood to believe they are engaged. The possibility of the scandal is therefore established for the visit to London with Mrs Jennings (Linda Bassett). Yet, the whole production feels rushed. We only have an hour and must get Brandon out of the way, Willoughby off to London, Edward Ferrars on a whistle-stop visit, and the Steele sisters into play. That means a lot of ground to cover with a few broad brushes of the scriptwriter’s pen. The last of the three episodes continues at a headlong gallop, often with a rather more modern use of language than Jane Austen could ever have dreamed up. Elinor and Marianne are crushed by Willoughby in public and Mrs Jennings is shocked to discover the libertine is engaged to another. Edward’s engagement is revealed to his unsympathetic mother by the dim Miss Steele and he’s sent off without a penny. In Cleveland, Marianne falls ill (obviously disaster befalls her whenever she wonders around in the rain and has to be carried back in the arms of a strong man), Willoughby appears and Brandon does all the right things. Minutes later, we are back in the cottage by the sea (another interesting decision to include all the dramatic scenes of waves rushing in upon the romantically rocky shore). Marianne plays the piano in Brandon’s library, sees how good he is with a falcon and agrees to marry him. Edward comes and declares his love, and before you can say whatever you feel is appropriate in these situations, it’s all over.

Willoughby (Dominic Cooper) looking predatory

Frankly, I’m in a state of mild despair. The decision to try cramming everything into a nominal three hours (allowing for the odd advertising break every now and again) has produced superficial characterisations, key scenes are omitted as where Brandon agrees to give Edward a living, and the general tone of the production is slightly darker than I would have expected. In the last episode, Elinor and Marianne are in bed together discussing men. There’s no better place for such discussions. Marianne wonders whether men treat women as mere playthings. This seems to be emphasised by the way in the which production is paced. Willoughby is shown as something of a sexual predator. The inclusion of an actual duel with Brandon is an interesting decision to show Willoughby’s humiliation in private does nothing to damp down the public persona. Indeed, his manner in the London ball could not be worse and his dismissal of his new wife when confronting Elinor in Cleveland is cold-hearted, as is the implicit denial of wrongdoing in siring an offspring with Brandon’s ward. Where it not for Marianne’s lack of experience and more romantic temperament, he would never have made progress. Her experience shocks her into accepting Brandon as a rock she can cling to in any storm. I’m not sure I’m convinced by this Marianne’s declaration of love for the man. She seems to be recovering from Willoughby rather quickly and emerging as somewhat flighty. In the novel this is avoided because she firmly explains her emotions as being less than love. That’s why her marriage is a triumph of sense over sensibility.

Edward Ferrars (Dan Stevens) not clearly defined as a character

But the real problem comes with the lack of screen time for Edward. The whole point of this man is his honour. Yet we are never given the chance to get to see the man and understand just how seriously he takes any promise he makes. This underwriting complicates what we see of Elinor’s reaction to him. Depending on how you view their first meeting, he may be seen as leading her on when he knows he cannot take it further. Or we could see Elinor as being as overly romantic in her reaction to him. Why is there this confusion? It’s the scene in the library at Norland. By allowing Margaret Dashwood (Lucy Boynton) to leave and give them the necessary privacy, he’s encouraging Elinor to believe a proposal is coming. Worse, he should know Margaret will almost certainly pass on the news to the rest of the family. The behaviour of a gentleman of the time would never have allowed this to happen. He would have been sensitive to the needs of preserving propriety if others were present or of ensuring privacy. So this production starts us off on the wrong tack with this character. Frankly, this is one of the many problems with the script by the usually reliable Andrew Davies.

Brandon (David Morrissey) at home on the range

We can perhaps forgive the opening sex scene. It does give some credibility to the power the wife Fanny (Claire Skinner) exercises over John Dashwood (Mark Gatiss) and sets up the scenes showing the marginalisation and departure of the female Dashwoods to their impoverished cottage. The country houses and interiors, as always, show high production values and give the adaptation considerable credibility. If only there had been four rather than three hours, we might have had the time to meet and get to know the people. Sad really but, for once, this Sense and Sensibility is a poor show despite the more than competent acting of the principals.

]]> http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/28/sense-and-sensibility-2008/feed/ 0 dmar91 Sense and Sensibility The Dashwoods Willoughby edwardferrars Brandon (David Morrissey) at home on the range http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/27/murder-of-the-bride-by-c-s-challinor/ http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/27/murder-of-the-bride-by-c-s-challinor/#comments Thu, 26 Jan 2012 16:10:51 +0000 David Marshall http://opionator.wordpress.com/?p=5636 ]]> book

Murder of the Bride by C S Challinor (Midnight Ink Books, 2012) is inherently interesting on a number of counts. For books of this type to be regarded as a success, there must be an elegant mystery to solve. Preferably, clues should be lying about in plain sight so we can try to second-guess the detective. The experts or the lucky can then be triumphal. They’ve beaten the author at her own game. The rest of us lummoxes, can do the “aw shucks, why didn’t I think of that” routine when the reveal comes at the end. In this case, kudos to Ms Challinor who pivots neatly in the direction of her gaze before coming to the final explanation. I was my usual lummox self and failed to remember the finer points of our culture when it comes to naming people. This is a pleasing puzzle and, although the casual way the local doctor protects the confidentiality of his patients’ records is contrived, the investigation is credible and the author plays fair. Our series hero, lawyer and occasional detective Rex Graves, really does work it out on the basis of what he sees and hears.

So what’s it about? With brief introductions out of the way, we’re off to the wedding and a quick introduction to the potential killer(s) as the invitees gather at the church. Then we pile into the assortment of available cars and straggle past the pub to the local exercise in architectural vandalism with resulting deaths and the theft of some valuable nick-nacks. It’s a classic Golden Age situation with a reasonably closed number of suspects all milling around a wedding reception that’s spread over several “open” rooms with access to the rest of the building to anyone with the courage to walk upstairs or through unlocked doors. We then come to the second point of interest. All modern “detective” books must confront the problem of a nonprofessional inserting himself into an official investigation. In these modern times, the police on both sides of the Atlantic tend to be a little jealous of their role as the detectives, by default rejecting the help of well-meaning amateurs. Gone are the days of a Christie-style private detective acting as consultant to the incompetent authorities. Almost every modern “detective” must achieve success despite the opposition of the police. Since our hero is already present, is the first to suggest the cause of the problem when guests collapse, and is then left to his own devices with a lone inexperienced Police Constable on the premises, he can get a lot of the heavy-lifting done before a more senior officer arrives. He’s then conveniently recognised as having had success in the past (such is the price of fame) and is informally accepted as part of the team when he fairly quickly explains a part of the day’s events.

C S Challinor showing a fine head of hair

This gives him a licence to jump in a car (no problems with the alcohol level behind the wheel) and zoom down into the village to talk with key people and top up the alcohol level in the pub denied him before and after the church ceremony. The third point of interest is Ms Challinor observes the unity of time. Following on the European tradition which first really got started in the work of Racine, the action is continuous over a single day although, as to place, we do move around the village and its environs a little. This means our hero can get to the answer before officialdom shuts him out. On the subject of unity of place, I should mention a death at another location and a need to consider where steps might have been taken to make the murder(s) possible. But the point of view rigorously stays with Rex. Others report outside events to him and so they come within our consideration.

Finally, this is one of those books in which an American author who was educated in Britain, has chosen to base her series character in Scotland. From this auspicious location, Rex launches himself into investigations at various points around the UK, in Jacksonville and on one of the Caribbean islands. The authorial challenge is therefore to strike a balance between a necessary “Britishness” for many of the characters and the dictates of an essentially American reading audience. This is not simply about the spelling. Those who read with any kind of awareness tend to judge the success of any book on whether the creation of each character and mis-en-scène feels credible. For American readers, the author must supply just enough detail to match their stereotypes and prejudices. If there are to be British readers (of which I am one), some care must be taken not to unduly offend their sensibilities. At this point, I’m going to spend a moment being deeply unfair to the author. This is a book intended for the American market and an editor would quickly change details like ER to A&E for British publication. In this series, our Scottish barrister sleuth is on a roving commission to solve crimes in an array of destinations so it dilutes the language problem a little. He can say “och”, “verra” or something equally Scottish to remind us he’s got an accent and then carry on in standard English. Perhaps Ms Challinor should just have called him Hamish. Overall, the speech rhythms are good. I can “hear” English people talking like that. Now a few moans. In my pubby world, Guinness is not a beer, it’s a stout. But then, I’m eccentric and pedantic so all-comers can and should ignore what I say on the subject of ale. I was fascinated to find Rex’s lady, Helen, wearing a flannelette dressing gown in May. How practical of her. My grandmother used to wear flannelette. Finally, the idea of a well-off barrister, allegedly six foot four, folding himself into a Mini Cooper is remarkably down-market. Perhaps he doesn’t want to flaunt his higher status to other road users on his long and tiring commutes. With his income and at his age, he could afford something more comfortable for distance driving.

Putting these trivial points to one side, Murder of the Bride is a real success. The prose is lean and economical, the narrative structure is dynamic and the plot is ingenious. You can’t ask for more than that, no matter which side of the Atlantic you happen to prefer.

A copy of this book was sent to me for review.

]]> http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/27/murder-of-the-bride-by-c-s-challinor/feed/ 0 dmar91 Murder of the Bride C S Challinor with wild and passionate hair http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/26/the-viral-factor-2012/ http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/26/the-viral-factor-2012/#comments Wed, 25 Jan 2012 18:26:51 +0000 David Marshall http://opionator.wordpress.com/?p=5619 ]]> film

Well, I happily sat down to watch this during the Chinese Lunar New Year so, in the necessary spirit of the times, The Viral Factor (2012) was a firecracker of a film. For those of you not familiar with the science behind firecrackers, you should know the manufacturers take a cardboard tube and tightly pack it with gunpowder to ensure the whole thing explodes with the maximum violence and noise. This is not the same as fireworks which are designed to propel very pretty coloured lights into the sky so we can all oooh and aaah in delight.

So, if you want to see a film with an amazing number of bullets, RPGs and fists flying while cars chase, helicopters hover and container ships float, this is the film for you because, as the saying goes, this film has all that stuff in spades. The only thing it lacks is a coherent plot and anything approaching self-discipline on the part of the director. Sadly, once Dante Lam gets the bit between his teeth, an action sequence can just go on and on. Indeed, watching the helicopters feels interminable.

Jay Chou and Elaine Jin enjoying a quiet moment toether

What, then, should the plot be? It can be summed up in a single sentence. A police officer and his brother take on criminals who want to make a fortune out of selling the vaccine after releasing a new smallpox virus. What do we actually have? Well, dog’s breakfast sums it up. We start off in the Lebanon where a team from the International Security Affairs is to escort a captured rogue scientist to a safe location. Frankly, I had no idea who anyone is nor who I should be watching apart from Jay Chou who’s Jon Wan Fei, one of the grunts. There’s a major police operation but, despite everyone’s best efforts, the scientist is taken away and all the team seems to be killed apart from Jay Chou. Fortunately, he’s only been shot in the head so it’s not a serious injury. Now comes the ultimate cliché. The best surgeons available dare not operate to remove the bullet. It’s touching the thingamagummy in his brain and, if it shifts, he’s a gonner. But fear not, Jay Chou fans, he can walk around for about two weeks but then will spontaneously drop dead. So, minutes after being given the good news, he’s on a plane back home. Except, I may have been wrong about everyone else in the team dying. Perhaps the one that shot Jay Chou in the head was a renegade ISA agent. I’ll come back to that. As a final thought, with RPGs blowing up vehicles and bullets spraying indiscriminately, how does the mastermind ensure his scientist is uninjured? Particularly if the mastermind is one of those guarding him. Grenades and bullets are not discriminating.

Nicholas Tse showing his star firepower

Passing quickly on, the emotional hooks have to be planted. We’ve had the dream sequence to start off the film and now Jon’s mother (Elaine Jin) tells him he has a long-lost brother in Malaysia. So, seconds later he’s in another plane — look out for the product placement for the airline but see the adverse message. The plane is inadequately pressurised and the high altitude is pressing the bullet into his thingamagummy. So a friendly doctor (Lin Peng) walks onto the flight-deck (no fear of terrorists on this airline) and they fly a bit lower. See, it’s a caring airline. Tony Fernandez can relax. So by coincidence, this doctor is one of the few people in the world who can manipulate the virus and manufacture the vaccine. From this you will understand the original rogue scientist was killed trying to escape his captors. So the mastermind sends Jon’s brother to kidnap the doctor. You see how the plot just meshes together into one of the most credible ever written. Yes, it’s the good and bad brother tag teaming as Nicholas Tse kidnaps both doctor and head-case at gun point. Not surprisingly, the brothers don’t recognise each other after twenty and more years so they fight and Jay Chou engineers their escape.

Lin Peng and Nicholas Tse

It’s at this point we see the pattern emerge. Jay Chou will be battered around the head with fists, metal bars and any other weapons to hand. He will be in car crashes and fall from heights on to his head but the bullet will not move. He will shake himself, perhaps manage a token stagger, maybe even swallow a quick pill, and then run, jump and fight some more. Nicholas Tse proves equally bulletproof (although towards the end, both brothers do put on some kevlar which soaks up everything fired at them apart from a few token scratches on the shoulders and arms). No sense in them taking unnecessary risks. In due course, the brothers are formally introduced and there’s the missing dad (Kai Chi Liu) and cute daughter. We now have all the elements to mix and match hostages, and for the big emotional ending when we get to see the meaning of the original dream. It’s intended as a real tearjerker. Add in Andy On, Carl Ng (I gave up caring which one was the renegade ISA agent — suffice it to say it doesn’t matter) and Anthony Sandstrom as an international gunrunner, and you have a high-profile international cast to widen the distribution potential for what has been an expensive production. Some of the dialogue is shot in English and some in Malay to run alongside the Cantonese. It’s hilariously ironic the Cantonese need subtitles in a film made by one of their own.

The real star of the film — the virus

On paper, this was a great film. Although I’m mocking the lack of plot, both Jay Chou and Nicholas Tse come out of it quite well. They are not required to show a great emotional range but they smile and snarl on command, and both look good as action heroes. Taken individually, the action scenes are of a high standard. They do go on too long but they look good. Kuala Lumpur also looks good and much less stagey than in other films (only a brief glimpse of the Petronas Tower). If all this had been put in aid of a coherent plot, it would have been a fabulous way of spending the Lunar New Year. As it was, The Viral Factor was like watching a bomb explode and leave a smoking crater.

]]> http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/26/the-viral-factor-2012/feed/ 2 dmar91 The Viral Factor Jay Chou and Elaine Jin Nicholas Tse in The Viral Factor Lin Peng and Nicholas Tse the real star of the film — the virus http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/25/when-the-saints-by-dave-duncan/ http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/25/when-the-saints-by-dave-duncan/#comments Wed, 25 Jan 2012 04:30:04 +0000 David Marshall http://opionator.wordpress.com/?p=5608 ]]> book

When the Saints by Dave Duncan continues the story of the Brothers Magnus begun in Speak to the Devil and rather neatly brings what I take to be the first major narrative arc to a reasonably neat conclusion. In a sense, this book answers the criticisms I had of the first instalment by providing a much more coherent explanation of the way in which magical talents fit into the society as described. Although it’s a slight reach, I approve the explanation of why Joan of Arc could be burned at the stake. This gives us an excuse to suspend disbelief in our own history rather than have to work on accepting an alternate history. If we assume the same families continue to produce talents, we could have a rather pleasing conspiracy theory explanation for events in today’s world. It’s a shame we will probably never get to read this since, for the most part, Dave Duncan prefers to remain in the past (apart from the odd foray off-planet as in Pock’s World).

Anyway, back to the book as written. This is far better than the first on two counts. First, it disposes of the broader battle scenes quite quickly as young Wulf shows courage above and beyond the call both in defending Cardice and then in jaunting around to attack the supply chain. I don’t mind people hacking each other to bits but, after a few pages, it gets a bit repetitive and quite boring. Although I’ve come across fictional descriptions of military campaigns that did hold my interest, e.g. Ash by Mary Gentle, I more often flip through the battles to get to the political, economic and social content. So, not surprisingly, the second improvement is that, having apparently secured a major victory, we can then get into the politics and generalised explanations of the magical system. For these purposes, I’m prepared to accept the device of both Wulf and Madlenka having to learn fast on the hoof. Naturally, they both turn out to be inherently talented in their own ways and, with only a few hiccups, they are soon sailing along quite happily. Even difficult obstacles to their marriage are swept away. After all, they cannot mix in polite society unless their status is regularised. In Wulf’s case, his confidence is understandable because, as a brother born into a fighting family, he’s always been calm under pressure. Madlenka is slightly less credible. I’m all for the talented women having a more modern view of their world. Their abilities mean they cannot be bullied by the majority of men. As an “ordinary” woman born into a military family, I’m less sure Madlenka would have grown up quite as shown here. But this is a minor cavil. Both individually and as a team, the couple learn fast and are an even match for the more experienced people around them.

Dave Duncan in his prime

The underlying metaphors based on falconry are also rather pleasing. This blends into the political structure seamlessly. After all, for the untalented, there’s always the fear of betrayal and double-cross so there has to be a way of policing the relationships. It would never do if someone could renege on a contract of service. For example, suppose a bodyguard could be persuaded to look the other way. This would be bad for the victim and undermine the general reputation of the talented. It’s actually in everyone’s interests that there are enforceable limitations on what the talented can and cannot do with real enforcement powers available in the event of alleged misconduct. To his credit, Dave Duncan has followed the logic of his ideas and comes up with quite an interesting set of solutions. There has to be a balance of power between the different groups.

Not unnaturally, the heads of the various religions are in on the secret and have their own talented members on the payroll. This is the Middle Ages so Europe is a patchwork of small kingdoms and principalities which produces a large number of “rulers” who all want protection. Now add in an emerging merchant class that’s able to pay well for services rendered — assuming they are cute enough to work out that magic is real, of course. There’s a kind of independent guild that offers membership to non-aligned talents and, on the other side of the European borders, there are mirror organisations representing their interests. Think mutually assured destruction and, as between groups of states, there’s enough of a balance to ensure even large jurisdictional disputes can be judged impartially with enforcement action following.

Put all this together and you get a satisfying book with a well-designed magic system in a credible context. It would be interesting to see at least one more book exploring how Wulf and Madlenka get on in this rather different shadow world. I hope When the Saints sells well enough to justify TOR picking up a contract.

The jacket artwork by Matt Stawicki has good clean lines and captures the defence of Cardice rather nicely.

For other books by Dave Duncan, see The Alchemist’s Apprentice, The Alchemist’s Code, and The Alchemist’s Pursuit.

]]> http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/25/when-the-saints-by-dave-duncan/feed/ 0 dmar91 When the Saints Dave Duncan http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/24/ip-man-2-2010/ http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/24/ip-man-2-2010/#comments Tue, 24 Jan 2012 05:10:14 +0000 David Marshall http://opionator.wordpress.com/?p=5595 ]]> film

As you will understand from the title, Ip Man 2 is a sequel following the loosely biographical story as Ip Man, also known as Yip Kai-Man, escapes from the mainland to Hong Kong. Those of you who know the history of this period will understand that some adjustments had to be made to the underlying story. The first Ip Man shows the eponymous hero in Foshan during the Second Sino-Japanese War which ended in 1945. This is untrue. He did not return to Foshan until after the Japanese had been expelled. Worse from the point of view of the Chinese authorities, he was a police officer and a loyal member of the Kuomintang. Once the Communists came to power, Ip Man retreated back to Hong Kong where he had spent some time as a teenager. All these political problems were glossed over in self-censorship by having Ip Man become a Chinese hero for beating the Japanese army’s martial arts expert. It’s then expedient for him to be carried, wounded, to Hong Kong at the beginning of this film.

Donnie Yen and Lynn Hung live humble lives in Hong Kong

As with the first film, this continues with the slightly deadpan Donnie Yen in the title role. The character of the man is shown as humble but with stubborn integrity, i.e. he would prefer never to have to fight to prove anything but, if push literally comes to shove, he will defend himself and the reputation of his fighting style. Much of the first part of the film is taken up with the politics of running a martial arts school in Hong Kong. Ip Man refuses to pay for membership of the local association which is apparently run by Master Hong Zhun-nam (Sammo Hung Kam-Bo) and Fatso (Kent Cheng). In fact, the whole system is front for a protection racket run by a corrupt senior officer in the police force. As a result of his refusal to pay, Ip Man’s “unauthorised” school is attacked and closed.

Donnie Yen and Sammo Hung spar

The narrative structure of this film is an almost exact copy of the first. We establish the character of the Ip Man. He faces a challenge that disrupts his quiet lifestyle. In the first, the Japanese arrive and desperate local thugs start a protection racket. In the final act, there’s a climatic fight with a reasonably villainous opponent. At this point, it’s interesting to compare both parts of the Ip Man story with Fearless (2006) in which Jet Li fights an honourable Japanese champion (Shidô Nakamura). I mention this film because Jet Li disposes of the giant Hercules O’Brian with little difficulty, i.e. the assumption of the film is that Chinese and, by implication, Japanese martial arts are inherently superior to Western boxing and wrestling skills. In Ip Man 2, there’s a big build-up to the fight with Twister (Darren Shahlavi). The obvious intention of the film is to demonise the colonial British. The police force is shown to be largely corrupt and expat entrepreneurs are milking the Chinese for their own profit. The character Twister is wonderfully melodramatic with bulging muscles, a giant ego and little in the brain department. Without exception, all the British in the local fight scene are portrayed as deeply racist, convinced of their innate superiority over the little yellow men. When Twister disrupts a demonstration of the different local styles of fighting, this provokes Master Hong into fighting. He knows he should not. As an asthmatic and older man, he can only fight at something approaching his best for a relatively short period of time. But he feels the honour of the Chinese way of fighting is at stake. He’s therefore prepared to sacrifice himself to prove the point (one way or the other).

In the first exchanges he’s equal to the British champion. But, as he tires, Twister starts to hit him at will. Rather than fall down and save himself, he holds the rope and is beaten to death. This brutal display is embarrassing to the British hierarchy who begin a cover-up, but Twister opens his mouth and issues another challenge. This time, Ip Man accepts. The fight is fairly remarkable because, unlike the earlier “exchange of pointers” between Ip Man and Master Hung which is dominated by fanciful wire work, this is a fight in which both combatants “obviously” hit (and kick) each other. In a relatively short space of time, Ip Man has been felled to the canvas and his face starts to swell with bruising. There’s no sanction when Twister hits Ip Man after the bell has gone and the judges instruct Ip Man that kicking is not allowed, i.e. the fight is being fixed. In a flurry of blows and changes in fighting style, most of which would be illegal under Western boxing rules, Twister is then beaten into insensibility. The fight event ends with an embarrassing “why can’t we just respect each other and get along” speech by the battered Ip Man. The British take a moment to think about how awfully bad they have been and then applaud the sentiment. Frankly, this doesn’t quite fit the plot. When the good guy batters the demon, some degree of triumphalism is expected. All that happens is that Ip Man jogs off to see his new-born baby. His wife played by Lynn Hung has been working on the baby behind the scenes while our hero trains for the fight. The happy couple then disappears back into semi-obscurity. With respect to the director, Wilson Yip, this is not quite the political and emotional pay-off we deserve. Although I concede it’s a nice touch to see him send the young Bruce Lee away at the end.

Donnie Yen and Darren Shahlavi in the grandstand finish

Unlike the first Ip Man which was more a solo vehicle, this gives fairly equal prominence to Sammo Hung who turns in a characteristically fine performance in acting, fighting and doing the fight choreography. Because Donnie Yen plays Ip Man as a rather gentle man (even prepared to run away if it becomes necessary), it’s somewhat low key to put against Sammo Hung except in their over-the-top fight when they both go at each other with something like full speed. Even though he’s getting old and experienced heart problems while filming, Sammo Hung is a delight to watch in full flow. Wilson Yip turns in a solid performance as director but I’m not sure he could decide what he wanted as the focus of the film. The first Ip Man is very much about the man who reluctantly agrees to teach his fighting style when the country starts to fall apart. The final fight to complete the demonisation of the Japanese is perfectly judged as the victorious Ip Man is shot in the back. That’s a real emotional pay-off. It should be said that the actual Japanese opponent was not wholly dishonourable, but he’s surrounded by people who are.

The sequel seems to be about demonising the colonial British, but it metaphorically pulls its punch at the end. It’s also less about the Wing Chun fighting style because the wire work takes a significant part what we see too far away from reality. A far more interesting approach would have been to show Ip Man and Master Hong learning from each other and developing the more sophisticated version of Wing Chun that would be passed on to Bruce Lee. The only redeeming feature is that, in the final fight, Ip Man is shown losing his aura of invincibility. He’s knocked down by a good fighter with very fast hands. Perhaps we should just see Ip Man as a modest hero doing nothing more than is necessary to prove his point and then waking away. Overall, Ip Man 2 is enjoyable but not as good as the first. I’m not surprised Donnie Yen refused to play the part again.

]]> http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/24/ip-man-2-2010/feed/ 0 dmar91 Ip Man 2 Donnie Yen and Lynn Hung Donnie Yen and Sammo Hung spar Donnie Yen and Darren Shahlavi http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/22/the-great-queen-seon-deok-or-seondeok-yeo-wang-episodes-69-to-74/ http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/22/the-great-queen-seon-deok-or-seondeok-yeo-wang-episodes-69-to-74/#comments Sun, 22 Jan 2012 08:30:32 +0000 David Marshall http://opionator.wordpress.com/?p=5567 ]]> television

This is a spoiler-rich discussion of what happens in these episodes so do not read this post if you want the experience of watching the serial unfold onscreen. Further, these episode numbers are based on the terrestrial broadcasts I have seen and not on downloaded or DVD episodes. It’s possible that these numbers do not match your experience.

Well, after all the excitement of the civil war that wan’t, it’s time to bury the dead. Deokman (Lee Yo-Won) and her loyal supporters wave goodbye to King Jinpyeong (Jo Min-Gi), while the clan bemoans the loss of Mi-Sil (Ko Hyun-Jung). Except Seol Won (Jeon No-Min) is already nagging at Bi-Dam (Kim Nam-Gil) to aim for the throne. Before this can get too serious, Deokman decides to blame the rebellion on Chil-Sook (Ahn Kil-Kang) and Suk-Poom (Hong Kyoung-In), leaving the Mi-Sil clan free of obvious blame. All they have to do is surrender their weapons and lands, and swear allegiance to Silla. Deokman is castigated by her inner circle for being weak, but she prefers to try and recruit all the people of talent into her government. The rest she will watch. She appoints Bi-Dam as her watcher. He’s to lead a new secret police force, rooting out treason and corruption wherever it can be found. To help him, a special supervision board is established. This has Seol Won, Mi-Saeng (Jeong Woong-In), Bo-Jong (Baek Do-Bin), Ha-Jong (Kim Jung-Hyun) and Yum-Jong (Eom Hyo-Seop) as members. Mi-Saeng and the two boys are less than pleased when they discover Bi-Dam is the committee chair. Se-jong (Dok Ko Yeong Jae) retires to the countryside.

Deokman (Lee Yo-Won) growing into the role of Queen

Deokman continues her policy of working with the people, rewarding those who turned waste land into farm land. She reasons she can build support if the people see the value of land ownership. This also means dismantling the Gayan threat. Although they seem to be integrating reasonably well at ground level, there’s a problem at the top. Now Bi-Dam wearing threatening black and sporting a slight beard, and Yum-Jong come into their own as the new secret service, investigating all threats to security. Wol-Ya (Joo Sang-Wook) is considered a major danger because he has refused to dismantle the Gayan underground. Unfortunately, he’s very close to Kim Yu-Sin (Uhm Tae-Woong) so a choice will have to be made by our loyal sidekick. Is he a Gayan or is he a Deokman man? Meanwhile, all the original members of Yu-Sin’s team have grown beards and are increasingly formidable in new armour. Even Ko-Do (Ryu Dam) has blossomed now Juk-bang (Lee Mun-Shik) has moved into a more advisory position with Kim Chun Chu (Yu Seung-Ho) and as a spy for Deokman. The army returns from a big campaign against one of the neighbouring states only to find some of their number being arrested by the Investigation Department. Tensions rise when Bi-Dam orders the arrest of Wol-Ya as the leader of the Gayan underground.

Bi-Dam (Kim Nam-Gil) in pursuit of power

All this rather sidelines Deokman as Bi-Dam, egged on by Yum-Jong and Seol Won, sets an elegant trap for Yu-Sin to fall into. Our innocent but lovable lug is arrested and then “rescued” by the terrorists who want him to be King. Why can’t they leave him alone? He just wants to be loyal to Deokman. Such divisiveness between Bi-Dam and Yu-Sin, the left and right hands of government, could split the nobility and build a power base for Bi-Dam just in case he decides he’d like a year or so as King. Stuck in the middle, Deokman fumes, but must wait for Yu-Sin to pull himself out of the pit. Fortunately, the honourable guy walks back into the palace and surrenders himself to whatever punishment is coming his way. Deokman stands in front of the nobles and exiles him. She invites Bi-Dam to assist the reoganisation exercise made necessary by Yu-Sin’s departure but, once she has all the names of those supporting Bi-Dam and the rump of Mi-Sil’s family, they are rejected. Indeed, Bi-Dam is demoted, now reporting to Chun Chu rather than to Deokman directly. She also tells him she will never marry, so he can forget any idea he might have had about become King through marriage. That’s wiped the smile from his face.

Chun Chu (Yu Seung-Ho) now being groomed as the next King

Once he’s out of the capital, the guards hand Yu-Sin a secret message from Deokman. He’s to infiltrate Baekje, the neighbouring state, and steal all its military secrets. Our hero just squares his jaw and sets off with a couple of hench people in tow. They almost have all the secret plans in their hands when they are unmasked. About to be killed, they are rescued by Wol-Ya and his men who are protecting their investment in the next King of Silla. Except, after the rescue, Yu-Sin finally convinces the rebels he will never fulfill their dreams. Instead, he lectures them that they should give up the rebellion and fight for Silla. They stomp off in despair. Messages are sent back to Deokman that a well-placed spy is going to open the gates to one of the key defensive strongholds. But, on his way back to offer more details, Yu-Sin is captured by Bo-jong who’s floating around the countryside spying for Bi-Dam. Unfortunately for Bi-Dam, Deokman is hailing Yu-Sin’s contribution to the war effort and our spy master has lost momentum. Now the race is on to save the stronghold.

Wol-Ya (Hoo Sang-Wook) as the potential saviour of Silla

Except one key part of Yu-Sin’s evidence turns out to be a misinterpretation of the name of the spy and therefore he’s discredited. Only a relatively small force is left to defend the fortress and, when the gates are thrown open and a fire set in the granary, the Baekje forces walk in. Now who’s to lead the army? Bi-Dam recommends Seol Won. Unfortunately, the old guy is not up-to-date with military tactics and has an undeclared heart problem. His troops get beaten back. Now Juk-Bang steps up and organises a meeting between Deokman, Chun Chu and Wol-Ya. The idea is to buy their co-operation by destroying all the evidence of Gayan ancestry. That way no-one will be able to tell Sillan from Gayan and it will end the threat of discrimination. Meanwhile, Yu-Sin is increasingly upset that the enemy is advancing. He begs Bi-Dam to be allowed to do something about it. After he has saved Silla, Bi-Dam can kill him if that’s what he wants. When Seol Won dies of a heart attack, Bi-Dam is out of options. I’m sad to see Seol Won go. He was always the calm, quiet one sitting beside Mi-Sil but he, more than any of the others, had keen intelligence and could actually help her assess strategy. Literally, she would not have survived were it not for his loyalty. In his own terms, his motives for helping Bi-Dam are legitimate in advancing the Mi-Sil cause. More importantly, he’s also quick to step forward in defence of Silla. Whatever his faults, he remains a loyal patriot, a real man of talent.

The Great Queen Seon Deok or Seondeok Yeo Wang — episodes 1 to 6

The Great Queen Seon Deok or Seondeok Yeo Wang — episodes 7 to 15

The Great Queen Seon Deok or Seondeok Yeo Wang — episodes 16 to 25

The Great Queen Seon Deok or Seondeok Yeo Wang — episodes 26 to 32

The Great Queen Seon Deok or Seondeok Yeo Wang — episodes 33 to 40

The Great Queen Seon Deok or Seondeok Yeo Wang — episodes 41 to 50

The Great Queen Seon Deok or Seondeok Yeo Wang — episodes 51 to 62

The Great Queen Seon Deok or Seondeok Yeo Wang — episodes 63 to 68

The Great Queen Seon Deok or Seondeok Yeo Wang — episodes 69 to 74

]]> http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/22/the-great-queen-seon-deok-or-seondeok-yeo-wang-episodes-69-to-74/feed/ 0 dmar91 The Great Queen Seon Deok Deokman growing into the role of Queen Bi-Dam (Kim-nam-gil) in pursuit of power Chun Chu Wol-Ya http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/21/after-the-apocalypse-by-maureen-f-mchugh/ http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/21/after-the-apocalypse-by-maureen-f-mchugh/#comments Sat, 21 Jan 2012 13:47:45 +0000 David Marshall http://opionator.wordpress.com/?p=5561 ]]> book

After the Apocalypse by Maureen F McHugh (Small Beer Press, 2011) is a relatively slim collection of nine stories, three of them original to the book. As the title suggests, they are all, whether directly or indirectly, about the effects of apocalyptic events. As always, therefore, we have to establish the ground rules for discussing the content. I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of the world going through a major disaster. In Biblical terms, we’re predisposed to anticipate the end of the world as we know it. Events like the flood and Noah’s survival are just God flexing his muscles and getting ready for the big day when the trumpets sound. Hence, The Drowned World by J G Ballard has an early version of global warming triggered by the arrival of solar flares that melt the ice-caps. The interesting feature of the three Ballard catastrophe novels is that, in a sense, the nature of the catastrophe is not really the issue. The focus is on what happens to the people after the event. Indeed, many of the early books like The Scarlet Plague by Jack London are set decades after the disaster. In other words, the better books and stories deliberately limit their scope to just a small group of survivors and describe how, if at all, the devastated world is healing itself. It’s largely left to Hollywood to show people living up to and then through the disasters. Film studios think we’ll pay to see the best in CGI as excessive levels of water, ice or seismic action bring down civilisation.

The second factor is the credibility of the disaster. One of the most common sources of population loss is a plague, whether of a natural variety as in Earth Abides by George R Stewart or a genetically modified version as in Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood. It’s impossible to emerge from the education process without being aware of the Black Death. Some may even have heard of the 1918 influenza epidemic. Such events are an indelible part of out culture and, alongside the paranoia about nuclear war, fit into our concept of “end of the world” scenarios. I’m also not unhappy with technological disasters, e.g. the current series by John Barnes starts with Directive 51 in which terrorists release nano and bioswarms to eat the plastic essential to support current technology, but I get a bit twitchy when aliens invade and blast us into submission or, worse, zombies inexplicably emerge and start snacking on us. I prefer the survivors I read about to be in situations that might actually occur. As against this, I suppose in wars it makes no real difference whether the enemy is human, dead or extraterrestrial. Destruction is destruction no matter what the cause. But the more unnatural the source of the disaster, the less happy I am. The point of the story should be to hold up a metaphorical disaster mirror so we can see a part of ourselves reflected in it — a part we don’t often get the chance to see.

The first story in this collection, “The Naturalist” is a zombie plague and the point seems to be that, if you put a sociopathic killer in an area with a small number of zombies, he’s likely to experiment to quantify the risks he faces. While the application of the scientific method is not uninteresting, we get no greater insights than they act not unlike hunting animals. The fictional courts then decide the use of zombies to thin out the prison population is a cruel and unusual punishment, and our “hero” is almost literally pulled out of the area before he has a chance to reach any firm conclusions on what makes zombies tick. So, apart from the writing which is beautiful to read, this says little about zombies and even less about the human condition. “Special Economics” has us in China after bird flu has thinned the population. A girl with some education from the provinces gets a job in a factory only to discover it operates a company store system. By charging employees for accommodation and everything they eat and wear, the employer ensures they stay in debt. Fines for poor performance ensure no-one ever pays off the debt. Corrupt police track down anyone who runs away. It’s a trap for the unwary straight from Victorian times when the exploitation of labour was the norm. There’s little originality in the idea but the execution is highly readable as a form of capitalism unexpectedly raises its head.

Maureen McHugh looking brave in the face of disaster

“Useless Things” first appeared in Eclipse Three and has the world moving north to avoid the water shortages. The few who remain are either stubborn Libertarians who refuse to move as a matter of principle and those who can afford to buy the water. This produces cultural instability as the transients grow more desperate and threatening. Our heroine has carved a niche for herself making dolls. In the cities there are still people rich enough to pay top dollar for specialty products. To improve her chances of survival, she branches out into dildos, but sales are slow. As local society seems to be disintegrating around her, self-confidence ebbs away and, in the end, she acquires a gun for protection. Sadly, her two dogs are not enough of a deterrent to thieves. Perhaps she will have to give up her home and live in her car. It’s desperately sad as the physical and emotional infrastructure of her life falls to pieces. Equally sad is “The Lost Boy, A Reporter At Large”. This is written in the style of a long magazine article about a case of dissociative fugue. It affects a young man who wanders off after two dirty bombs explode in the Baltimore area. Not unnaturally, this is a chaotic event with long-term repercussions as the radioactivity causes different forms of cancer in those exposed. Although our boy is never in physical danger, he prefers the life he makes for himself in a new town. Even when his family find him and, with less than enthusiasm, he admits to remembering the life he used to have, there’s always the sense that his life is fractured. Like the now empty city of Baltimore, he can’t reconcile what he was with what he’s become. Thematically, this carries over into “The Kingdom of the Blind” where an increasingly complex computer system may be developing some degree of awareness. A programmer speculates the system is testing its ability to interact with its environment. Since this will cause chaos if it becomes more frequent, the IT team decide to reload from an old archive copy. If it is aware, this will be apocalyptic to the machine. The most interesting part of the story is the relationship between the female programmer and the men around her. This is very nicely observed and probably true more often than not.

“Going to France” is only faintly apocalyptic in the sense that, should the migration grow and persist, America would be left relatively empty and France would be overcrowded. But what makes it unusual is the fantasy element of people actually able to fly. This rather takes it out of our theme unless the first wave are angels with an obsession for things Gallic. Then we’re back to an apocalypse on a purely personal level. Just as a computer intelligence might be swept away in a reload, so “Honeymoon” sees the destruction of dreams on an epic level. Every girl knows how she wants her wedding to run and, if something derails her plans, this is devastating. Thereafter it becomes a slightly humdrum story of making money out of medical trials, not all of which are as safe as we would hope them to be. “The Effect of Centrifugal Forces” has society collapsing as a disease similar to Mad Cow spreads rather rapidly, people dying within five years. In the face of such uncertainty, it’s not easy to maintain relationships. Even families may not be able to take the strain of looking after parents as their mental faculties disintegrate. After all, it’s not as if relatives actually like each other. This is a powerful and affecting story. Finally, “After the Apocalypse” poses a slightly different question. The relationship between a mother and daughter may be protective out of habit and, if a man appears and is able to offer some support, then the mother will be properly grateful. But suppose she can escape to a better life. Would she abandon them? And, if she would, does this say something about the state of the family as an institution and perhaps partly explain why society might break down so quickly when some bombs explode?

All of these stories are written in a lean and muscular prose that’s a delight to read. The majority are as good as you will find in the post-apocalypse market and, when you put the two together, After the Apocalypse is terrific value for money.

]]> http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/21/after-the-apocalypse-by-maureen-f-mchugh/feed/ 0 dmar91 After the Apocalypse Maureen McHugh http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/20/the-expedition-to-the-mountains-of-the-moon-by-mark-hodder/ http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/20/the-expedition-to-the-mountains-of-the-moon-by-mark-hodder/#comments Fri, 20 Jan 2012 13:22:37 +0000 David Marshall http://opionator.wordpress.com/?p=5547 ]]> book

It’s always more interesting to read a serial than a series. Decades ago when I was young, I cut my teeth on comics that told their stories in weekly instalments. I’ll never forget the excitement of following the adventures of Dan Dare in The Eagle, Captain Condor and Robot Archie in The Lion, and then the text stories in The Hotspur and The Rover. It was the perfect way to learn the art of storytelling. Series are inherently less interesting because they lack full narrative continuity from one episode to another. The characters may, to a greater or lesser extent, stay the same but there’s little organic growth in their memory of past events or the skills they employ. I remember the deep frustration of American television shows like Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. I kept wanting Crane to turn to Nelson as Kowalski was yet against threatened by a man in a rubber monster suit and say, “Didn’t something like this happen last week?”

The publishing industry has always relied on series to build reader loyalty. In the days when the average novel came in around 50,000 to 60,000 words, writers could churn out two or three a year to keep their fans happy. Earl Stanley Gardner, for example, produced some eighty Perry Mason novels and a host of other books and stories about other series characters under pseudonyms. Never mind the quality, count the words. Yes, authors did sometimes play honest and write duologies, trilogies or tetralogies where a single story was divided into equal parts. But, more often than not, the publishers were actually selling a series in which we got separate stories set in the same universe with each episode having a different focus. So the primary protagonists might be replaced or time might leap forward several years or decades. This has the marketing advantage of making each book a potential standalone. As with an open-ended series, buyers can start more or less anywhere and then pick off the other books in any order. Only in a minority of cases does the author and publisher produce a continuous narrative spread over several volumes.

All of which brings me to The Expedition to the Mountains of the Moon by Mark Hodder. This is the third and last in this run of books featuring Sir Richard Burton and Algernon Charles Swinburne. Indeed, like the notorious dead Norwegian Blue, this serial is almost certainly no more in its current form (sorry, that should be, “there will almost certainly be no more”). Why, you ask, should publishers give up on continuing an excellent wheeze like this? Could we not have an origin story or suddenly discover previously unreleased events from the life of Burton? Well, the answer, my friends, is blowing through the structure of this third volume. It does rather leave the alternate England behind. That said, an inventive mind could devise a way into a different future. It will be interesting to see whether Pyr offers us the chance to see it unfold.

As to the meat of this book, what started off serious with an undercurrent of wit often exuberantly breaking through, has now become rather darker in tone. Although we do still have one (later two) of those annoying parrots flying around, it’s kept to a minimum as the cast of characters comes under attack — one or two do fall by the wayside. There are some moderately intense battle scenes and, depending on your point of view, some moments of mild horror. But the real change comes in the emergence of the trilogy’s subtext. In the first two volumes, there are patches of exposition where the philosophies and moral stances of the different factions are explained, but the structure of the plot as predominantly “adventure” encourages us to pass these by fairly quickly. Mark Hodder now brings the key arguments to the fore.

This is not Mark Hodder on the left receiving the P K Dick Award

Take the question of how power should be exercised through the state. Is the older model of an autocracy like a monarchy/empire and an elite of “nobles” the most efficient form of government? Or is the form of government somewhat irrelevant once a certain size of population is achieved? No single leader or a small elite can be everywhere all the time to monitor and control what’s happening. For purely practical purposes, there has to be some devolution of authority. So the quality of life for the many depends on how the delegates use their power and whether they are held accountable if they abuse that power. You might have a system in which the few literally enslave the many and are never accountable unless held liable by a jury of their peers. Or you might have a society where all are ostensibly free but, unless each individual is born into wealth or privilege, the threat of poverty forces the majority to surrender some of their independence. Without a framework of laws granting rights to the people and courts to enforce them, the majority are always vulnerable. Should wars break out, they are cannon fodder no matter who rules.

So what about sexism, racism and all the other discriminations that can blight lives during the peace? How should knowledge be expanded and how far should states go in educating the people? As we know all too well, many scientific discoveries have unfortunate side effects. In a world where greed dominates, such discoveries may be exploited regardless of the harm they cause. If they are denied access to the underlying science, the majority may never understand what causes their health and other problems. This allows the elite to continue acquisition of wealth without accountability. The education system is therefore distorted to ensure the appropriate classes of people are kept in ignorance. Women may be denied some or all access to knowledge except in areas of skill thought acceptable to their gender. Racial groups may not be taught to read. And so on. Returning to the question of morality, how should the scientists react when they see how their work is being abused? If we believe in universal laws of morality, e.g. as God-given, then scientists should act to reduce the damage caused. In a more open and democratic society, different factions could debate these issues and there’s a chance reasoned conclusions will be acted on. In more autocratic societies, difficult scientists may simply be eliminated. What’s done and how it’s done is ultimately determined by whether individuals, and through them the state, have a conscience. What’s clear is that, should an übermensch emerge, he or she would probably not consider laws of any kind applicable. This could be the ultimate force for good or evil depending on your point of view.

Those who have read the first two books will know that everything becomes unhinged because of the arrival of Spring Heeled Jack. This unleashes the wild outflowing of technology and undermines the emerging influence of morality that might civilise European and Russian societies. It also interrupts the plans of Burton to marry. How different it would all have been had Jack’s time travel been interrupted at an early stage. A very different future would have emerged. I will stop at this point because I don’t want to disturb your enjoyment of how this volume squares the circle. My only reservation lies in the length. I think it takes too long for the expedition to progress through its various African challenges. That said, The Expedition to the Mountains of the Moon is an entirely satisfactory ending to one of the better trilogies of the last decade, i.e. it’s one excellent story spread over three books. For this reason, I suspect you will be confused and unhappy if you try this without first reading one or both the other books. Ideally, start at the beginning with The Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack.

For reviews of the first two books, see The Curious Case of the Clockwork Man and The Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack.

As the penultimate thought, once again the artwork by Jon Sullivan is magnificent. You should check out the gallery on his website. Some of his biomechanicals and other creatures are terrific.

And for those who enjoy a little nostalgia, the website run by Mark Hodder celebrating Sexton Blake is worth a visit.

]]> http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/20/the-expedition-to-the-mountains-of-the-moon-by-mark-hodder/feed/ 0 dmar91 expedition_to_the_mountains_of_the_moon This is not Mark Hodder receiving the P K Dick Award http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/19/stone-spring-by-stephen-baxter/ http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/19/stone-spring-by-stephen-baxter/#comments Thu, 19 Jan 2012 07:36:44 +0000 David Marshall http://opionator.wordpress.com/?p=5531 ]]> book

I have to start this review by admitting a terrible prejudice against what may loosely be called prehistoric or stone age fiction. When I was young, I kept coming across instances of it from Arthur Conan Doyle and Jack London to Edgar Rice Burrows to the more fantastical John Norman. Many authors dabbled in stories set among early humans. But, I suppose, the book that set the more modern snowball rolling down the ski-slope was Jean Auel’s The Clan of the Cave Bear. Now everyone and their sabre-toothed tiger (courtesy of Roland Emmerich in 10,000 BC) muscle in on the act from time to time. Just give them a stone axe and something to grind it on and they’re away into the past.

I took the time to set out my objections to this genre in the review of Shadow Valley by Steven Barnes. Rather than repeat myself here, I’ll content myself by saying that, when we read a work of fiction set in our modern world, the author can use a form of shorthand to signal the different situations. Since we’re immersed in the current reality, we only need a few hints to be able to work out sometimes quite complicated social situations. But if the author is taking us forward or back in time, it’s necessary to start explaining how these different worlds work. When we go forward, it’s easier to extrapolate how humans might react. But going back to being a hunter-gatherer is more dispiriting. I can’t get very excited about tribes struggling to survive when their understanding of the world is so primitive. I know Ug the Caveman is a cliché but it symbolises the inherent limitations in the genre. Either Ug is little better than a hairy ape with no language skills to speak of and only rudimentary tools to work with, or he’s a more modern human we can identify with.

Stone Spring by Stephen Baxter (Volume I of The Northland Trilogy) has us at a time when there’s considerable mobility between the different groups of humans. Each has its own language and customs, but there’s a more universal trading language and emerging urbanisation in Jericho which has the natural resources to support a larger population. This is a time when the merchant class is becoming more adventuresome and sophisticated and it’s therefore easier to characterise them as more like “us” for the purposes of telling the story. What would it be like, the author is asking, if a relatively modern man were to come across a tribe subsisting on hunting and fishing that’s about to find its natural stamping grounds increasingly underwater. Yes, friends, it’s that old-bugbear global warming as the ice is melting in the polar regions with no Kyoto Protocol to slow it down. Nothing is new in the scientific world.

Stephen Baxter gazing into the past

Even the tribes are not quite as primitive as we might have expected. Yes, they’re pre-Google, but actually evincing some mild signs of intelligence. This bending of reality gives Stephen Baxter the chance to tell an interesting story. There’s immediate cross-cultural conflict with the arrival of two “British” brothers in our Northland village. They act rather like our football supporters travelling abroad and their first act is to start kicking down the walls of the hut they’ve chosen to occupy while on holiday. Later, one of them is the cause of a significant diplomatic incident between the local tribe and people migrating up from the south as the sea begins its invasion of the land. Our trader has set off from Jericho with a man skilled in brick-making literally in tow. It’s a long walk ahead of them. Then we have a third group forming as two explorers sailing up the coast rescue a pregnant woman.

Needless to say, the right people end up in the right place at the right time. One of the Brits kills the other in a knife fight (they’re obviously early Millwall supporters). The survivor has knocked up one of the local girls so they go back to the forests of home. Then there’s a tsunami that wrecks most of the village and salts the surrounding countryside. Enter our brickmaker with a grand scheme. Now before you can say, “Heath Robinson was my forebear”, they’re building a dyke and draining the land behind it. Forget about the Dutch and their primitive dabbling. This is state-of-the-art building work that only someone who had seen the walls of Jericho could design. And to get enough labour, they have to invent currency as payment and you can just hear the first faltering steps of the WTO spreading the economic miracle of trade. Meanwhile back in the forests, they’ve invented slavery following on warfare. They turned from being mere football hooligans and they’re now warlords bent on conquest. Naturally, it all comes out reasonably well at the end of this first exciting episode. The good survive and the less good perish. Warlords bad, benign dictators good. It’s always been the way in these primitive times.

I’m making fun of this revolutionary work to keep the seas from inundating the land between what is now Scandinavia and Europe and Britain. Just think, no North Sea and English Channel. I suppose I should apologise but this book signals dangerous times. If these alternate stone age visionaries have their way, it really will be a united states of Europe without the rump of the Tory party able to do anything to stop it. So, well done Stephen Baxter. In Stone Spring, you’ve actually produced an enjoyable read. What does this mean for my prejudice against stone age novels? Actually my prejudice remains intact. It turns out this book is really a modern story in prehistoric trappings. The way they talk and act, their dreams and plans for the future are all contemporary in spirit. How else could they build hundreds of dykes to keep the sea at bay? This sure ain’t going to be no Jericho where the walls come tumbling down even if they are using sandstone to face the dykes. This has all got to stand the test of time through two more volumes to complete the trilogy.

A copy of this book was sent to me for review.

]]> http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/19/stone-spring-by-stephen-baxter/feed/ 0 dmar91 Stone Spring Stephen Baxter http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/18/house-of-fear-edited-by-jonathan-oliver/ http://opionator.wordpress.com/2012/01/18/house-of-fear-edited-by-jonathan-oliver/#comments Wed, 18 Jan 2012 13:10:27 +0000 David Marshall http://opionator.wordpress.com/?p=5525 ]]> book

House of Fear edited by Jonathan Oliver is predominantly a British anthology, filled to the rafters with the best of the current crop of our writers even if one is a renegade American now living in Scotland and another is a renegade Englishman now living in Amsterdam. Only two actual Americans have made the cut. This is not to suggest the haunted house is, or should be, a British speciality and others will trespass at their peril. But rather to reflect the taste preferences of the editor. This is his second anthology for Solaris Books — for the record, Jonathan Oliver is the Editor-in-Chief for both Abaddon Books and Solaris Books.

“Objects In Dreams May Be Closer Than They Appear” by Lisa Tuttle is a beautifully told variation on a traditional scenario. The realisation of the woman is perfect in pitch as she finds herself once again in a car looking for that dream house. “Pied-à-terre” by Stephen Volk is another story where the characters of those involved are instantly recognisable. The two marriages are captured in a relatively few words. Having lived for a time in a house not unlike the one described, the type of home strikes a resonance in my memory. The only element of uncertainty is the author’s decision to make the ghost a real person. It’s not that I disapprove. Indeed, the story hangs on the issue of identity. But I’m not sure it’s entirely fair on the reader because it changes the nature of the experience from straight fiction to a kind of parable in which a message about how to find happiness (or avoid further pain) is passed from “beyond the grave”. In Midnight in Paris, Woody Allen offers us a fantasy in which a hack screenwriter is given the chance to hang out with Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, et al. This strikes me as legitimate magic realism because we’re asked to see the characters as they were in life. Stephen Volk seems to be inviting us to see this ghost as a kind of catalyst to encourage women to re-evaluate their lives. I don’t know, off-hand, whether this person was a counsellor or interested in supporting battered wives but the ghost is apparently appearing to a “type”. It’s not a notorious fact about this individual’s life. So I’m inclined to think Stephen Volk is imposing this motive on to the ghost and thereby converting a good story into something gratuitously exploitative.

“In the Absence of Murdoch” is a completely entrancing contribution from Terry Lamsley. He’s been a consistent performer for some years now (shame no-one has ever been able to persuade him to write a novel) and this displays a slightly weird sense of humour at work as birds of different types leave the nest and/or crash on landing. This should be a contender for an award for best short story of the year. “Florrie” by Adam L G Nevill takes us down the well-trodden path of possession as the new owner of a home finds himself increasingly identifying with the interests and prejudices of the older generation. This is elegantly done. “Driving the Milky Way” by Weston Ochse is another wonderful story, this time dealing with the innocence of youth. That it bends the editorial brief by selecting an RV rather than a house is neither here nor there. There’s great sadness here and, although the survivor’s response is not terribly rational, his obsession is credible. I hope he can join his friends on their journey.

“The Windmill” by Rebecca Levene nicely diverts the reader’s attention and produces a slightly vicious story of revenge. Imagine a man slowly losing the things he holds most dear, starting with this car. It might tip him over the edge. “Moretta” by Garry Kilworth is somewhat less successful in that it’s traditional with people dying in an old house. In these days of fictionalised CSI technicians to pore over all potential sources of evidence from the scene of unexplained deaths, including all the furniture in the rom and the bedding, it seems inconceivable the house could have remained in the state as described in this story. Personally, I would have cleaned and tied up the place, changing the bedding before sleeping in the bed. Perhaps I’m more fastidious than our heroes. This is not to deny the creation of good atmosphere, but to recognise a falling off from the more general high standard of stories to date.

Jonathan Oliver: Mac owner but not yet wireless

“Hortus Conclusus” by Chaz Brenchley restores us to a more inventive approach with the sad truth that the dead may be jealous of our continued life. Why should they be the ones to die? Why couldn’t it have been us? Moving along: as an atheist, I can only say, if I was going to have a God, “The Dark Space in the House. . .” by Robert Shearman gives me the picture of the kind of guy I would want, even though He does seem somewhat hung-up on negative psychology. This is great fun. “The Muse of Copenhagen” by Nina Allan is a most pleasing story of a succubus from Scandinavia finding a home in England.

Christopher Fowler inverts expectations in “The Injustice” by speculating on what people should do with the evidence they obtain when searching for the supernatural. To whom do they owe a duty of care? Put another way, if the ghost-hunters fail to act on what they find, should they be liable for any injustice this causes? Perhaps I should not be surprised to find stories of real emotional intensity in a book blending the supernatural with horror but “The Room Upstairs” by Sarah Pinborough adds a rather unexpected dimension. Other stories in this anthology have dealt with varying shades of emotion in a fairly narrow range. This represents a provocation into more honest feelings. What we have lost can never really be recovered. All we can hope to do is replace the missing with something new that helps take away the pain. Even then there’s no guarantee of lasting happiness, only the hope of better times to come. “Villanova” by Paul Meloy plays in the same sandbox as the seminal The Stone Tape by Nigel Kneale. Sometimes places record past events and, given the right trigger, these recordings can be replayed. So it is when a family go on a holiday break to a French campsite out-of-season. They find themselves caught up in a replay of what has gone before.

“In Widow’s Weeds”, Christopher Priest has come up with an interesting way of giving tuition. Although the learning outcomes appear significant, there may be downsides to explore before marketing this method for more general use. “The Doll’s House” by Jonathan Green is a classic story as postpartum depression may have been triggered by the arrival of the titular toy and its housekeeper. “Inside/Out” by Nicholas Royle is intriguing both as a commentary on our station in life (in a more general version of the u and non-u sense) and as a story about a man who finally reconnects with a memory of a tender moment only to recognise this internalised memory may be a trap. “The House” by Eric Brown is an elegant variation on the “house” theme, nicely trapping our older hero in the clutches of his dead wife’s curse. Let’s hope the moonlight ending is real and not a “ghostly chicken coming home to roost”. “Trick of the Light” by Tim Lebbon takes us down another well-trodden path but does so with some style. Finally, “What Happened To Me?” by Joe R Lansdale produces the ultimate grandstand finish. It captures the simple trusting love a young girl may have for another girl met in the woods. She brings the girl home and they grow up together but, as is always the way with families, there comes a time when these friends must part, leaving the girl from the woods behind. She grows bitter and angry with anyone who comes to occupy the house. It’s a riveting, page-turning read leading to a genuinely satisfying note on which to end the anthology. If hauntings are evidence of bitterness and anger, let’s hope there can always be a chance for reconciliation and healing.

Without exception, these stories most powerfully create a sense of the places and the people who inhabit them. Rather than merely plot-driven, they show us the humanity of those who may find themselves exposed to the supernatural. Weak or strong, everyone does their best to move on with their lives, although not always with complete success. This is a singularly impressive anthology. The fact I have spent rather longer than usual discussing these stories should indicate how much I have been provoked into thought (in a good way, of course). House of Fear should be read by everyone with an interest in high-quality ghost and horror stories.

A copy of this book was sent to me for review.

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