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Confessions of a Five Chambered Heart by Caitlin R Kiernan
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When you look at the world of dark fantasy or horror (depending on the way you apply labels), it’s sad there are so few women who get the recognition they deserve. I suppose if we stretch the boundaries, we have to include Anne Rice among the really well-known. Of the “midlist” crowd, my personal favorites are Poppy Z Brite and Lisa Tuttle. All of which is probably not the best way to begin a review of Confessions of a Five Chambered Heart by Caitlin R Kiernan (Subterranean Press, 2012) but I thought I should make the point that the mass market is not given the chance to appreciate the quality of the dark fantasy or horror fiction that women write. Whereas the men are heavily promoted, women are not picked up by the mainstream publishers and so are less well-known. This denies the majority the chance to read work by Caitlin R Kiernan and others. Not only does she produce such good prose, but her work gives a fascinating insight how fiction written by a woman differs from the male version. In this collection, we also see a conscious effort made to blur the line between the “dark” and the “erotic”, i.e. to make explicit what many of the male writers tend to leave implicit. Those of you who know Caitlin R Kiernan will understand she has an insight into the spectrum of gender and so her fiction tends to approach sexuality and eroticism from less usual directions. This makes her work all the more interesting to read and, once again, we’re indebted to Subterranean Press for supporting her work.
“The Wolf Who Cried Girl” is an elegant story about the socialisation process. No matter how they first present as children, we intend to transform our young into adults we can be proud of. For the elite who are strong and the average, this works reasonably well, but when the non-standard have to contend with the prejudices of the peer group and authority figures, it’s very difficult to stay true to the inner personality. Those with gender issues are only too aware of this problem. This is the story of a wolf who’s magically transformed into a girl. Hospitals and counsellors attack her instinctive feral identity, forcing her to assume the appearance of a woman. Her decision to have sex with a man proves the final step in the magic driving the process of social change. The voluntary acceptance of the new identity is inevitably the surrender of the old. Except, of course, wolves never like to surrender and always fight to the end, particularly if they believe they have been tricked. The reverse is “Unter den Augen des Mondes” in which a female werewolf finds herself a prisoner and unable to transform into her human body. Living as a caged animal, all she can hope for is the opportunity to kill the man who taunts and abuses her.
Caitlin R Kiernan
We then have a genuinely macabre allegory. “The Bed of Appetite” makes literal the cliché that people can be consumed by love. This inevitably involves one or both parties accepting some reduction in their individuality. They give up their freedoms, accept new responsibilities. But, as the relationship moves towards termination, what will be left of each person? “Subterraneus” is a simple but powerful Lovecraftian story. “The Collector of Bones” reminds us of the idiom that some people talk you to death. These three stories also consider the difference between dominance and submissiveness depending on the gender role. “The Bed Of Appetite” is particularly interesting because the woman begins to write the story, but it ends as the man dictates. “Beautification” continues the theme of submissiveness and self-sacrifice, except it’s not at all clear what benefit will accrue to the woman from this sacrifice. “Untitled Grotesque” returns to the world of gender mutability in a story of voyeurs where it’s important to understand who’s watching whom with the greatest interest. At least, in “Flotsam”, there’s an obvious pay-off for the submission. The victim longs to give blood to a vampire because it’s an ecstatic experience. Unfortunately, the sexual high emphasises the dominant loneliness and frustration because the donation comes only when it suits the convenience of the vampire. “Concerning Attrition and Severance” completes this small section by moving us from voluntary submission to sadism for the greater enjoyment of the sadist and her watchers.
“Rappaccini’s Dragon (Murder Ballad No. 5)” shows us that, with good preplanning, revenge can achieve the desired result, while “The Melusine (1898)” demonstrates that if you live in the moment, you can suddenly find your rational defences overwhelmed as love beckons. But if you hesitate, the magic is lost and the mundane rationality of the world reasserts control. “Fecunitatem (Murder Ballad No. 6)” asks if you have a close relationship with nature, will a death of your own choosing lead to a different view of the world? Perhaps a seed might take root and prove you as fertile as the rich earth. Moving into science fiction, “I Am the Abyss, and I Am the Light” describes a process whereby a human and an alien surrender their individual personalities and merge into a single being. In so doing, the individuals become something different, neither human nor alien, but a third species. During the process, both overcome the inherent loneliness of being one individual in a body, never knowing what others around them are thinking. Through this surrender of individuality, they accept each other in a form of relationship that’s intimate and permanent. Similarly, “Lullaby of Partition and Reunion” suggests that true love implies the two people will intermingle, will fuse both physically and intellectually — even become soul partners like siamese twins albeit with different parents.
“Dancing With the Eight of Swords” thinks about a serial killer who, while alive, believes the voice of another is guiding every action. Would it not be remarkable if, upon death, the killer might find a different way of relating to that voice, perhaps even of breaking down barriers to become a single individual who can make her own choices. “Murder Ballad No. 7” raises the possibility that, if a man could see past a glamour to the fairy below, he might be considered worthy of being a mate, albeit only within the fairy ring, of course. “Derma Sutra (1891) offers a Lovecraftian potential for two coming together through the application of various tattoos and the use of words from Ancient Books, while “The Thousand-and-Third Story of Scheherazade” is a nice inversion of the original Arabian Nights to keep a different relationship going. “The Belated Burial” suggests an intermediate step in the metamorphosis from dead human to vampire. “The Bone’s Prayer” reinvents the old trope of the message in a bottle and wonders how a small piece of soapstone with signs of the Elder Gods carved on to its surface might serve the purpose. “A Canvas For Incoherent Arts” has a couple playing S&M games based on sensory deprivation. What does the submissive partner become when she’s actually afraid? “The Peril of Liberated Objects” is a powerful Lovecraftian acceptance of dreaming as a form of voyeurism, showing an unexpected price paid out of sight. “Pickman’s Other Model (1929)” was reviewed in Black Wings. “At the Gate of Deeper Slumber” continues the Lovecraftian theme with a wonderful box that offers the use of a portal if only you have the courage to open it. Finally, “Fish Bride (1970)” completes the frame of the first story. A woman is slowly going through the metamorphosis to become one of the Deep Ones. Unfortunately, she falls in love with a human man. As her gills begin to show and the call grows stronger to join her mother in the city beyond the Devil Reef, she realises the loneliness that awaits her without the man she loves. Here acceptance of the process produces the mirror image result but without the option to pick up a knife and strike with any meaningful purpose.
Confessions of a Five Chambered Heart is a collection of densely written stories, often with challenging content. As such, it rewards those who take their time to engage with the author and think through what underpins each story. Because of its frankness and some eroticism, it will not be to everyone’s taste. This is a shame because, regardless of the superficial descriptions, the underlying themes transcend physicality. Almost without exception, the stories are about the mind and how it relates to the world around it through the agency of the body. Yes, some of the stories are disturbing, but is one of the functions of art not to disturb, to challenge our safe view of the things around us we perceive as mundane?
My opinion on Lee Moyer‘s contribution to the cover design provoked some debate so I’ve written a more detailed critique of the artwork at Cover Design For Confessions of a Five Chambered Heart. For reviews of other work by Caitlin R Kiernan, see:
The Ape’s Wife
Blood Oranges (written as Kathleen Tierney).
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 7. A Man Without Honor
Game of Thrones is based on A Song of Ice and Fire by George R R Martin. The content of Season 2 in this television adaptation by HBO is drawn from A Clash of Kings. As before, the production is helmed by David Benioff and D B Weis. Here is the link to my retrospective overview of Game of Thrones Season 1. This is a spoiler-rich discussion of what happens in each episode, so do not read this if you want to watch without prior knowledge.
With only nuts to keep them going, Hodor (Kristian Nairn) carries Bran (Isaac Hempstead Wright) with Osha (Natalia Tena) and Rickon (Art Parkinson) in support
As is appropriate given the episode’s title, A Man Without Honor, Theon Greyjoy (Alfie Allen) is frustrated and angry when he discovers Bran Stark (Isaac Hempstead Wright) has disappeared, but manages to say encouraging things to Maester Luwin (Donald Sumpter) about what a good-behaved little boy he’d been when he was a hostage. His conclusion as he leads the pack of hounds to track down the runaways, “Don’t look so grim, Maester, it’s all just a game.” The idea that it’s better to be seen as cruel rather than appear weak neatly sums up this unpleasant little man. Meanwhile, with Osha (Natalia Tena) leading the way, Hodor (Kristian Nairn) carries Bran further away with Rickon (Art Parkinson) in tow. But they know they can’t outrun the hounds forever. Waking after a night without passionate sex, Jon Snow (Kit Harington) finds himself the butt of sexual jokes from Ygritte (Rose Leslie). Do you have sheep at the Wall? No! No wonder you’re all so miserable! It’s a laugh a minute, but the vow of celibacy defines Jon as a man of honour and forms the basis of his emerging reputation. The sparky argument with Ygritte does pose an interesting question. If people have been living on both sides of the Wall for generations, why are they fighting each other? She tries to seduce him into abandoning his oath and joining Mance Rayder. When that fails, she runs off and leads Jon into a trap where he’s captured. At least he’s saved the embarrassment of having to pretend he’s in control.
Arya (Maisie Williams) offers Tywin (Charles Dance) a little more conversation
Back at Harrenhal, Tywin Lannister (Charles Dance) thinks he was the intended victim of the murder at his door yet, in his new role of surrogate Daddy to Arya (Maisie Williams), he still has time to chat with her and feed her mutton. He tells her how Herrenhal fell to the dragons, but she fills in all the gaps in his version of the history. He concludes she’s only pretending to be low born and that she’s too clever for her own good. At least he’s not completely stupid. Alton Lannister (Karl Davies) returns to Robb Stark (Richard Madden) with the rejection of the peace terms by Cersei Lannister (Lena Headey) and, as a reward for having the honour to keep his oath to return, he’s placed in the same lock-up as Jaime Lannister (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau). Happy as two peas in a pod, the prisoners remember the fun times they had when young and then Jaime explains his plan to escape. Meanwhile Robb Stark has taken Talisa Maegyr (Oona Chaplin) off to the Crag to top up her supply of medical supplies. Naturally, to preserve his reputation for nobility and honour in battle, he wants her to be able to treat the wounded of both sides. This leaves Catelyn Stark (Michelle Fairley) to defend the recaptured Jaime until Robb returns.
Jaime (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) in a spot of bother
Having held back time for months, Sansa Stark (Sophie Turner) bleeds and thereby announces she’s physically able to bear children and so available to marry Joffrey (Jack Gleeson). Overcome with joy at this prospect, she runs to Cersei who offers womanly wisdom. Essentially this comes down to loving her children and trying to avoid being killed by everyone else. Tyrion Lannister (Peter Dinklage) has news that a fleet representing Stannis Baratheon (Stephen Dillane) is about four days away and twice the size of their navy. He and Cersei lack confidence in the planning of the defence. Caught in a moment of truthfulness, Cersei admits to the incest and opines that Joffrey is her punishment. Off in distant Qarth, Daenerys Targaryen (Emilia Clarke) trusts Ser Jorah Mormont (Iain Glen) to find the stolen dragons. He gets the information from Quaithe (Laura Pradelska), but arrives too late to stop the coup organised by Xaro Xhoan Daxos (Nonso Anozie) and made possible by Pyat Pree (Ian Hanmore). It seems the warlock has the dragons.
Xaro Xhoan Daxos (Nonso Anozie) and Pyat Pree (Ian Hanmore) seize power
It’s fascinating that a contemporary fantasy series should feature two such awful people. This is not to say any of them are very nice. Indeed, by and large, they are a murderous bunch except for Tywin Lannister who’s increasingly demonstrating a cuddly side. But several of them have qualities we can respect if not actually like. This leaves us with Joffrey as a sadistic boy with megalomania coming on fast. Theon, however, must win a prize because his cruel streak comes from his cowardice. He’s genuinely despicable — his deception over the burning of the boys is gratuitously callous to protect his reputation but without any sense of what that does for his chances of survival in one piece. The women come out of this well. Ygritte is having fun at Jon’s expense, and the tag team of Catelyn and Brienne is shaping up well. Unfortunately, the pace of events north of the Wall is appropriately glacial, King’s Landing is in a holding pattern until Stannis arrives, and Winterfell is under the control of a boy who grew up into A Man Without Honor. Events in Qarth are happening, but I can’t say any of this is terribly exciting.
Thematically, the episode seems to be about the different ways in which people can enhance or lose their reputations. When she no longer controls the dragons, Daenerys discovers she has nothing (except the undeclared love of Ser Jorah Mormont). This continues her underwhelming contribution to the excitement level in this series. Xaro Xhoan Daxos has an impeccable reputation for having climbed to the top of the commercial heap from nothing, while the Spice King (Nicholas Blane) proves a disposable asset when he’s on the wrong side. Theon doesn’t realise that being seen as cruel is usually taken as a sign of weakness by others. Jaime no longer cares what others think of him, hence his successful plan to escape, while Cersei is finally prepared to admit Joffrey is a monster. In all this, the most interesting man is Jaime. It’s not that he’s without honour. It’s just that his code is not the same as everyone else’s. All in all, A Man Without Honor offers a lot of violence to compensate for the lack of sex. HBO must have some element to maintain its reputation for being edgy even though the pace of progress is slowing down quite dramatically.
For reviews of Season 2, see:
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 1. The North Remembers
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 2. The Night Lands
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 3. What Is Dead May Never Die
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 4. Garden of Bones
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 5. The Ghost of Harrenhal
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 6. The Old Gods and the New
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 8. The Prince of Winterfell
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 9. Blackwater
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 10. Valar Morghulis
Game of Thrones: Season 2 — the HBO series considered
The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)
The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) is something of a conundrum. Almost at the end, the teacher in a high school English class comes up with the assertion that although her professor had believed there were as many as ten different plots for a book or film, there’s only one. Not surprisingly, it’s “who are you?” This is not a little ironic because Sam Raimi, a director of reasonable talent, made an origin film about Spider-Man in 2002. Usually a studio waits more than ten years before remaking a film. I’ve read that Marvel Comics would have benefitted from a reversion of the rights unless a new film was added to the franchise. No matter what we might think of the character, the trilogy has been a major money-spinner. So Columbia Pictures probably decided that losing the rights was not an option. But Sam Raimi declared he’d had enough after three. Worse, the original cast of Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst announced they were no longer available. Facing insuperable difficulties in continuing the trilogy’s plot-line, the creative-powers-that-be decided to start again with a new director and cast. Since they already had a script for the origin of the superhero, all they needed to do was add a new villain and they could continue gathering in the dollars from the fan boy community.
Andrew Garfield trying to fit in with his skate board
This brings us to Andrew Garfield as the reincarnation of Peter Parker, Emma Stone as Gwen Stacy, Martin Sheen as Uncle Ben (Cliff Robertson died and a CGI recreation was presumably thought an inappropriate use of S/FX funds when an equally good actor was available), Sally Field as Aunt May (I suppose Rosemary Harris was too old), and Marc Webb (note the magically appropriate name) to direct. If you’re going back to the “beginning” and reruning the same story as the English teacher suggests, this means the key members of the cast should fit an age profile for “High School”. Not being American, I’m never quite sure what age bracket this most usually covers in the real world. Watching films and television series tends to suggest it’s late teens and early twenties (finding reliable young actors who can work the tough schedules to produce these series is always a challenge). But in any sane education system, people should be moving on to university no later than nineteen or twenty. So casting Andrew Garfield at twenty-eight and Emma Stone at twenty-three gives a distinctly odd feel to these school scenes.
The plus side to this incongruous look is that both can act. No matter how iconic Tobey Maguire may have become in this role, he’s never been the most flexible of actors. Perhaps more importantly, once the actor gets into the suit, it doesn’t matter who it is. So the choice of Garfield turns out something of a triumph. His performance actually gives the film considerable emotional depth. Similarly, although we grew used to seeing Kirsten Dunst as Mary Jane, Emma Stone also turns in a good performance. The fact she’s at high school and not a PhD-toting Oscorp employee of sufficient years experience to manufacture the antidote to the genetic plague in ten minutes, is not important. The pair of actors work well as a couple. It’s merely unfortunate they (and the director) have been given a script that, at times, makes absolutely no sense. For all its many faults, this is actually a very good film with a stand-out role for Stan Lee. Yes, instead of the poor old boy just briefly glimpsed sitting in a train or bus, he’s the butt of a good joke as two of “his” creations battle it out on screen.
Emma Stone is allowed to have a brain despite only being the girlfriend
Right so we need to look at the script attributed to James Vanderbilt, Alvin Sargent and Steve Kloves. The question is whether the depiction of life as an ordinary “boy” needs to make any sense given that his transformation into a superhero is inherently incredible. So apart from seeing him prepared to take on and lose a fight with a bully, we see nothing suggesting amazing intelligence or a deep interest in science. He’s just shown as one of these insecure kids of apparently average ability who tries to hide in the classroom and get out of the place before he gets into trouble. Yet when he’s suddenly able not only to make fun of the bully on the basketball court but also make a leap no human could match, no-one reacts differently to him. He should have entered the mythology of the school, yet breaking the glass screen above and behind the ring with his foot (or was it his hand?) is not considered noteworthy.
Martin Sheen and Sally Field typecast as grandparents looking after a difficult teen
Unenhanced, he’s suddenly able to say scientifically intelligent things to Dr Curt Connors (Rhys Ifans) and, without training as a super-spy, crack the top-level security on a secret lab without pausing for breath. I suppose the spider’s bite then raises his intelligence so he can immediately understand all his father’s notes and write down the key formula from memory when talking with the “good” doctor. He knows about the portable dispersal machine and instinctively understands what colour the antidote must be — that’s the powerful blue to overcome the evil green gas. I don’t mind this level of absurdity when our character has been given a background as a scientific prodigy in disguise, but the only way in which this boy is shown as excelling is wearing a hoodie. Then there’s the completely unresolved issue of whether Rajit Ratha (Irrfan Khan) finally crosses the bridge and injects the serum into veteran volunteers. The manoeuvring of the cranes in the final chase is ludicrous. . . I could go on but this would detract from my final verdict.
Rhys Ifans — is this an arm I see before me?
Yes, the plot is incredibly stupid and the final battle between The Lizard and the wounded Spider-Man (not really slowing down with a bullet in him — did he just heal quickly or did Aunt May do field surgery on him when he got home with the eggs?) is like every other CGI battle between a superhero and the latest villain. But there’s a real emotional heart beating in this film. He may look too old, but Andrew Garfield is immensely likeable, there’s good chemistry with both Emma Stone and Martin Sheen, and surprising depth from Denis Leary as Captain Stacy in a short role. More importantly, like Alfred Molina as Dr. Otto Octavius, Rhys Ifans is wonderfully credible as the one-armed scientist. Without such a strong performance, the film would drift. So I ended up caring for Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy as people. This may not be the best Spider-Man film. That honour is still held by Spider-Man 2 (2004) featuring Dr. Ock. But The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) runs it a close second and is highly watchable.
December Dread by Jess Lourey
December Dread by Jess Lourey (Midnight Ink, 2012) book 8 in the Murder-By-Month series and we’re back in Battle Lake, Minnesota as Mira James, our heroine, continues the demanding task of trailer-sitting, freelancing for the local newspaper, keeping the library shelves in order, and solving enough murders to justify the nickname Mortuary Mira. With only ten killing days to go before Christmas, she’s watching the elves carefully to see when they will deliver the next body. Except all she gets is what may be an invitation from the Candy Cane Killer — he’s the one who only kills brown-haired women about the same height and weight as our heroine during the month of December. Ah, so she could be the body. That would be a good switch — a kind of Ghost where she and Patrick Swayze get to make out while solving her murder. As a foretaste of the killing spree, two bodies are discovered over in White Plains — the woman and her dog — about an hour’s drive away. Unfortunately, that’s not a safe distance when it comes to dedicated serial killers. So she goes to show her invitation to Police Chief Gary Wohnt but discovers the card she received is part of a genuine marketing campaign. This doesn’t stop her from hitting the library’s computer. Before you can say Dagnabit or whatever her password is, she’s knee-deep in news about the killer. So because she fits the physical profile, Battle Lake conspires to send her home to her mother in Paynesville where she’s supposed to feel safer. Shame there’s Kevin Bacon and not Patrick Swayze on her old bedroom wall. The other advantage is the chance for her to go through the certification course for qualifying as a PI. If she gets a licence, she can legitimately earn a little money as an investigator rather than having to solve all these murders for free.
Jess Lourey by Jane Bailey
Then the next body appears. Santa’s really speeding up his deliveries this December, and he’s always thoughtful. This victim is the homecoming queen. Mira knew her at high school. It kinda keeps the death in the family. So, after some initial reluctance — the consensus seems to be you leave serial killers to the FBI — she and the indefatigable Mrs Berns decide to set a trap. Why leave it to the professionals to have all the fun. Yet there’s also the question of the orange begonias tugging at the back of her mind. Candy’s a bit crude in messaging terms. In Victorian times, flowers and their colours had specific meanings so, when people sent each other a bunch, they were actually sending each other coded messages. For the record, begonias were symbols of warning and orange is a reference to passion or desire. Not that this captures the meaning of Mira at all. She’s been practicing abstinence. In fact, it says something about the sender’s view of the women who received them. For those who can read the symbolism, they are being warned they are acting in a sexually inappropriate way.
I confess to becoming something of a fan of Mira James and so, by extension, Jess Lourey. As Mira demonstrates during both the PI course she goes through and in the real-world investigation, she has a flair for quick assessments of people and situations. Give her more time to think and she works through the available information and usually arrives at the right answer. As to Jess Lourey, she has a flair for creating an entirely credible cast of characters. Too often, you read a book and only encounter cardboard cutouts and stereotypes. December Dread is full of people you could meet in any small town anywhere in the world. As a final thought, I should explain the title. You can see it at two levels. If a serial killer with a known profile for selecting victims sends out candy calling cards, there’s bound to be dread in the community. But, in this instance, it’s also a reference to Mira’s need to overcome her fears about who she is and what she wants out of life. This is not simply a case of the girl coming back to her home town and facing those she knew as she was growing up. She should also make sober decisions about what to do about her love life. Sometimes, fear holds you back and stops you realising the potential in your life for happiness. December Dread is great fun with a nice puzzle for our heroine to solve. It’s definitely worth picking up! As a final thought: if you have a wooden leg, always hide it in plain sight.
For reviews of other books by Jess Lourey, see:
December Dread
November Hunt
The Toad House Trilogy: Madmen.
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 6. The Old Gods and the New
Game of Thrones is based on A Song of Ice and Fire by George R R Martin. The content of Season 2 in this television adaptation by HBO is drawn from A Clash of Kings. As before, the production is helmed by David Benioff and D B Weis. Here is the link to my retrospective overview of Game of Thrones Season 1. This is a spoiler-rich discussion of what happens in each episode, so do not read this if you want to watch without prior knowledge.
What makes The Old Gods and the New interesting is that it signals an increasing willingness on the part of the production team to move away from the book. It’s always appropriate when adapting a novel for a visual medium to change things around. But the continuity between this episode and the last is challenging. We leave it with Theon Greyjoy (Alfie Allen) being rowed out to his single ship and return with him actually taking Winterfell. I’ve no particular axe to grind but there’s a lot missing with him landing, laying siege to Torrhen’s Square with a token force and then capturing Ser Rodrik (Ron Donachie) as our doughty defender marches to drive off the attackers. I suppose the important question is whether the increasingly selective way in which scenes are being chosen and fitted together actually works. In the main, what we see in this episode is reasonably easy to follow and not unenjoyable despite the slow-moving sequences north of the Wall. I’ll come back to all the changes to the main story at the end of the reviews of the individual episodes.
Jon Snow (Kit Harington) reaches a critical point in his relationship with Ygritte (Rose Leslie)
Personally, Bran Stark (Isaac Hempstead Wright) is helpless but also mindful of the fate of the people in Winterfell so, with Theon and his crew of cut-throats threatening the few staff in residence, he mouths the words of surrender. This should have kept everyone safe except the weak-minded Theon listens to the wrong advice and decides to behead Ser Rodrik. Botching this simple task signals the end of respect for the man. Because this is an HBO show, Osha (Natalia Tena), the Wildling girl, sleeps with Theon, steals a knife while he’s in post-coital slumber, kills a guard and then leads Bram away from his home on the back of Hodor (Kristian Nairn) with his younger brother Rickon (Art Parkinson). In any other show, Osha would have picked up one of the hundreds of knives lying around Winterfell, quietly killed a guard and escaped. Beyond the Wall, Jon Snow (Kit Harington), shadowed by his direwolf, Ghost, goes off with Qhorin Halfhand (Simon Armstrong) and three other rangers on a commando raid to kill Mance Rayder. Among the first group of Wildlings they fight is a girl called Ygritte (Rose Leslie). Jon Snow now demonstrates why he’s also an ineffective person. In this type of raid behind enemy lines, there’s no place for sentimentality. Not understanding the extent of the boy’s weakness, Halfhand leaves him behind with instructions to kill her. Except he can’t bring himself to do it. She runs off and there’s then a tediously long chase. He catches her but he’s stubborn enough to lie out in the open with her. Good job he’s taken the vow of chastity. This saves HBO from having to show another sex scene — danger money would have been required for lying down and baring tender bits. Who knows what might get stuck to the ice.
Tywin (Charles Dance) looking the part as the head of House Lannister
To help us understand why Robb Stark (Richard Madden) is on a winning campaign, Tywin Lannister (Charles Dance) is shown having trouble with his senior officers, all of whom are as thick as two short planks. This is cartoonish. If Tywin Lannister is really so competent, he would have ignored all these lightweights and brought in military professionals to get the job done. Petyr Baelish aka Littlefinger (Aidan Gillen) comes to report Renly’s death. He correctly identifies the Tyrrels as the unknowns since they have not yet declared what is to happen to their troops. He also reports on Tyrion’s plan to trade the Stark girls for Jaime. Lurking in the background as the cup bearer, Arya (Maisie Williams) listens carefully. Then, somewhat improbably when they are alone, Tywin tells Arya about teaching Jaime to read and talks candidly of his own father who was weak and almost lost the House. Although it’s interesting to consider what Tywin’s attitude to Arya might have been, seeing Tywin as less than ruthless in his dealings with her does rather blunt his reputation. But Arya’s impetuosity puts her in danger and she takes a second life from Jaqen H’ghar (Tom Wlaschiha) to protect herself. She’s leading in the ruthlessness stakes.
Cersei (Lena Headey) and Tyrion (Peter Dinklage) say goodbye to Myrcella (Aimee Richardson)
Back at King’s Landing, Tyrion Lannister (Peter Dinklage) finally gets his way and sends Myrcella Baratheon (Aimee Richardson) out of the city. Cersei Lannister (Lena Headey) vows she will take revenge by killing anyone he loves. The presence of the great Joffrey (Jack Gleeson) in the city streets sparks a riot. Sandor Clegane (Rory McCann) as The Hound literally carries Joffrey out of danger, but Tyrion worries where Sansa Stark (Sophie Turner) is. She’s caught and men are about to rape her when The Hound finally does the right thing and rescues her — plenty of feeling on his part when slaughtering the wannabe rapists. No-one’s going to touch his Sansa. Tyrion has the satisfaction of slapping Joffrey. Fortunately, no-one kills Tyrion for his lèse majesté. After her rescue, Sansa and Shae (Sibel Kikilli) exchange notes on who to trust. There’s no explanation of how The Hound could find Sansa, but perhaps we’re supposed to infer an ability to track her scent through city streets and slum tenements from his name as The Hound.
Talisa Maegyr (Oona Chaplin) could tempt Robb Stark (Richard Madden) into the wrong decision
In Qarth, Pyat Pree (Ian Hanmore) makes his first appearance as the warlock, while Quaithe (Laura Pradelska) offers a warning to Ser Jorah Mormont (Iain Glen). Despite her pleading, the Spice King (Nicholas Blane) refuses to give any of his ships to Daenerys Targaryen (Emilia Clarke). She has no army. She has no allies and cannot explain why the people will rise for her as the rightful Queen. He offers the wisdom of the ages. That wishes and dreams are not enough. She protests she is not an ordinary woman. She dreamed of dragons and her dreams came true. But the Spice King is all business where logic conquers passion. When she returns to the home she has been given in Qarth, she finds many of her supporters dead and the dragons missing. In a moment of peace, Robb Stark meets up with Talisa Maegyr (Oona Chaplin) again. This time, she not amputating limbs after a battle and they manage to talk more romantically to each other before being interrupted by the return of Catelyn Stark (Michelle Fairley) with bad news about Renly. Great timing as a crow also comes in from Winterfell.
On balance, The Old Gods and the New is one of the weaker episodes. Although we appreciate that the landscape north of the Wall is full of ice and snow, it’s not necessary to show us quite so much of it for so long. I also appreciate the difficulty in training animals, but the failure of the direwolf Ghost to put in anything other than a token appearance is a bit worrying. A little foreshaddowing of future events would be more useful than extended chases. In the Westeros, the characterisation of Tywin Lannister feels wrong. He’s far too likeable. Although Arya is the third most intelligent person in Harrenhal (after Tywin and Jaqen H’ghar), that’s no reason for Tywin to treat her like his own daughter. Yes, he’s probably a lonely old killer, but that doesn’t mean he would open up to a girl he’s only just met. So this is all disappointing.
For reviews of Season 2, see:
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 1. The North Remembers
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 2. The Night Lands
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 3. What Is Dead May Never Die
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 4. Garden of Bones
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 5. The Ghost of Harrenhal
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 7. A Man Without Honor
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 8. The Prince of Winterfell
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 9. Blackwater
Game of Thrones: Season 2, Episode 10. Valar Morghulis
Game of Thrones: Season 2 — the HBO series considered
Bone Wires by Michael Shean
Daniel Gray is the archetypically ambitious company man, his eyes focused on the bottom line, hoping to ensure his promotion by bringing in his quota of results. Brutus Carter, a veteran senior officer, is less engaged in the corporate side of the business, but that doesn’t mean he’s uninterested in his job in Homicide Solutions. Yes, it’s an intriguing idea, isn’t it? That a future society will privatise law enforcement and turn it into a business. At a stroke, this moves us away from a service ethic to protect the public and into an interstitial role located somewhere between insurance and the form of protection racket originally favoured by the criminal gangs. It’s somewhat ironic I should be reading Bone Wires by Michael Shean (Curiosity Quills Press, 2012) now because it’s predicted that private companies will be running parts of the British policing service within the decade. Just as the corporations have been moving into the provision of prison services both here and in America‚ just imagine the view you would have of your job if it depends on maximising the number of people in jail. Now consider the possibility that the same company running jails gets to investigate crime. That means we can have a production line of people brought before the courts in the hope they will be sent to the corporate jails. I’m sure outsourcing is a wonderful idea in some quarters, but applying it to critical public services seems a little dangerous. That’s why one side of Michael Shean’s vision is labelled the Pacification Division — keeping the “ordinary” population pacified can be good business.
Well, as is required in stories like this, our pair of homicide detective pull one of the more exciting deaths. A senior police administrator has been left in a back alley with his spine surgically removed. He’s carrying a wad of cash protected by a bomb to disable the unwary which suggests he was into something illegal. Put the two together and this could be the high-profile case to give young Daniel his promotion. Except when management find out their man had been selling information to the wrong people, they want the investigation kept very low profile — not quite what Daniel wanted to hear. He also surprises himself by being annoyed at the suggestion he would not want to track down the killer(s). Perhaps he might actually become a detective rather than just an employee protecting the value of his stock options. Curiously, when there’s a second killing with the spine removed, Daniel only gets a small budget to investigate. It’s like his bosses don’t want him to solve it. Fortunately, even with only a few hours available, he begins to find interesting pieces of information so that, when the third body shows up, he can see a link between the two new victims. With a search warrant in his hand, he breaks down the nominated door and finds butchery on a scale he had never considered. So, more by accident than good judgement, he gets his promotion. This should be immensely satisfying, but something doesn’t feel quite right. Worse, he’s begun a relationship with one of the witnesses from the first murder case. This is against company rules and, when Vice discover it, a blackmail situation emerges to push him in directions he might not want to go.
Michael Shean ready to try a new method of shaving
So what do we make of all this? Bone Wires is a rather cunningly constructed book. It looks as if it’s going to be science fiction with horror overtones but, when you step back, you can see the horror is more window dressing than anything. It’s just a sop to the Cerberus instincts of those readers who like a little blood and gore with their police procedurals. The real point of the story is the politics and economics of the corporation running the policing service. Because of his rather public success in exposing a serial killer, Daniel becomes a poster boy for the company, showing how Homicide Solutions really can boost the profit margins. So if his investigations were to take the wrong direction and show the company in a bad light, the stock price would fall and the corporation would find a way to cut him loose. This conflict of interest takes centre stage as Daniel has to decide whether his new-found interest in being a detective is real.
If this plot is to be credible, the detective must be given a problem to solve that, like an onion, takes him through different layers towards the central core and questions of possible commercial significance. The thing about raw onions is that, as you begin to cut into the outer layers, gaseous acids are released which produce irritation of the eyes and tears. This is a disincentive to further cutting. As I’ve mentioned, the initial presentation is of a murder with the body mutilated by the removal of the spine. When more bodies are found with their spines removed, the temptation is to assume the solution of the new murders also solves the first crime. Indeed, the corporation declares all related murders solved, closes the files and promotes the “successful” detective. But suppose the first death is actually part of a rather different scenario. When Daniel comes under pressure because of the blackmail and looks beyond the surface reality, how should he react if reopening the first murder file could mean he loses his job?
Bones Wires is set in the same Wonderland universe as Michael Shean’s first book, Shadow of a Dead Star, but apart from a couple of details on body enhancements, there’s no positive link between them. This book is also somewhat unconventional in that he’s been publishing it as weekly serial on the Curiosity Quills site. So those of you who were alert could have read this as it was being written without having to buy it. I’m all for innovation and this is pleasingly proactive on the part of the publisher. Now that it’s finished and ready to buy as a single package. . . Well, this avoids everything connected to the jaw-dropping plot twist at the end of Shadow of a Dead Star. Presumably the weirdness of all that will be explained in what’s scheduled to be his third book titled Redeye. Thus, Bone Wires is a far better worked plot and, although it leaves the door obviously open for a sequel, it does tie everything up neatly. In more general terms, I was impressed by the different way of approaching two fairly well-established tropes. Michael Shean knows how to avoid the clichés. But the prose is less interesting this time around, possibly because it was written against the clock with slightly less time for reflection. Overall, this is enjoyable and worth reading as a police procedural and political thriller set in a future world where the economics of corporate life produce interestingly different social outcomes.
For a review of the other books by Michael Shean, see Shadow of a Dead Star and its direct sequel Redeye.
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.
The Devil’s Madonna by Sharon Potts
The Devil’s Madonna by Sharon Potts (Oceanview Publishing, 2012) takes us down a moderately familiar road. It’s a curious coincidence that immediately after reading a novel about an eighty-seven-year old Jewish man who discovers that a Nazi who almost killed him in a POW camp may still be alive, I should pick up a novel about a ninety-three-year old woman with Nazi problems from her past. She calls herself Lillian. In Berlin before the war broke out, she was an actress using the name Leli Lenz. When her stage show closed, she met Dr Altwulf, a much older man who taught art at the University and painted for his own enjoyment. Thanks to him, she appeared in three films made as part of the Goebbels’ propaganda campaign. In England before the war broke out, she met the American who was to marry her. At this time she was calling herself Astrid Troppe, born in Austria. Later she became Lillian Breitling, born in London with a British passport. It seems her real name was Ilsa Straus with her parents university teachers in Vienna. Her daughter, Dorothy (named after the Wizard of Oz), died in a car accident leaving a grandchild, Kali (named after the Goddess of Time and Change) who’s married to Seth Miller and carrying his child.
From this outline, you’ll understand the book is interested in the question of identity. Anyone who lives into their nineties is likely to get forgetful, even at the best of times. When she almost starts a serious fire, it’s obvious she can no longer live on her own. Later she has a stroke which compounds the problem. Since she won’t have anyone else in the house with her, the only way to deal with this is for Kali to move back into the house she lived in after the death of her mother. Kali quickly discovers that her grandmother has become more than a little paranoid. Yet they seem to fall back into a familiar pattern. Unfortunately, Seth is particularly resentful his wife should be showing him disloyalty. He had expected her to stay with him throughout the pregnancy. Kali is disconcerted by this apparent change in her husband. She had done everything possible to fit into his family, even converting to Judaism to ensure their child would stay within the faith.
Sharon Potts — the author
Thematically, I was reminded of Hitler’s Daughter by Jackie French in which four Australian children discuss what it would be like to have Hitler as their father. Obviously, from the perspective of a ten-year-old boy, it’s difficult to establish a clear picture of the man and so he begins to ask his parents for information. In this book, we have a old woman who may be sliding into dementia and is, at times, very confused. Some of the things she says makes her granddaughter more curious about her family’s history. In part, this is a desire to be able to pass something of her heritage on to her own child. She thinks it important a child should have a sense of his or her roots. This has assumed greater importance in her mind because of her recently redefinition as Jewish for the marriage. She seeks a context for this change in her own identity, hoping to be able to pass on an oral tradition of who she was and how her Christian family came to join with a Jewish family.
While it would not be true to say her grandmother had been actively secretive when she was young, Kali has no facts about her grandmother’s life before she married. So, with the help of the boy next door who has now grown into a professor of history, she begins to disentangle the facts from the strange assortment of information her grandmother offers. The narrative develops along two tracks, one as historical fiction showing what actually happened to Lillian as a young woman, the other detailing the slow emergence of a threat to both grandmother and granddaughter. Although it becomes fairly obvious what must have happened about halfway through, the book does say interesting things about the nature of identity, wondering whether we can ever really be honest about who we are and what we believe. So often society condemns us if the majority recognise a difference. Over the generations, so many many groups have been on the receiving end of discrimination and persecution. For all our modern lip service to equality and the rights of the individual to a peaceful existence, innocent individuals can suddenly find themselves ostracised or worse. On this front, The Devil’s Madonna is successful. But, to my mind, it stops at entirely the wrong point.
I don’t mind books stopping abruptly, but I do object to books stopping arbitrarily. Obviously, I can’t discuss the detail of this without engaging in spoilers. All I will say is that the author had arrived at a situation forcing the whole issue into the public domain. An investigation was inevitable. A criminal trial might even have been appropriate. Whether or not the decision was taken to prosecute, an exploration of the legal and moral implications would illuminate not only the author’s views, but also allow readers to rehearse the arguments about what the long-term outcome should be. To stop at this point strikes me as moral cowardice. Having created the opportunity for a real discussion on the merits, the author should not throw up her hands and walk away in silence.
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.
The Dragon Griaule by Lucius Shepard
Many moons ago, Lucius Shepard launched a dragon called Griaule into the unsuspecting literary world. Although it’s always tempting to apply the usual label of fantasy to such flights of fancy, the reality was that of a sophisticated allegory and, in the six stories published as The Dragon Griaule by Subterranean Press (2012) we get to relive the excitement of five reprints, and savour the latest contribution to this hopefully continuing saga.
So what exactly is Griale? At face value, this is an enormous beast that, in the best traditions of fantasy, rose to the top of the predator tree. When it became too dangerous to be allowed to roam freely around the countryside, eating whatever it fancied, a world-class magician was summoned to kill it. Unfortunately, this meeting ended in a draw. The physical body of the dragon was brought down to the ground by the spells and substantially frozen into immobility but, even though the magician gave up his own life as the price of the beast’s death, it did not die. It continues to think and, at set moments during the day, it opens and closes its eyes. Although this might not seem a bad outcome, the dragon possesses the ability to influence the thoughts of those who come into the zone of influence. Not unnaturally, it’s somewhat displeased with its present state and so tends to influence the humans and animals around it to act to their detriment. It likes a good war every now and again, finding amusement in bringing down the proud and foolish that would stand against it.
Now let’s translate this dragon into a major leader like Genghis Khan. Those who assert the right to govern a country are rarely altruists. They are more usually selfish and power-hungry. Without active constraints, they move across the land like predators, asserting control and killing the opposition. But no matter how bloodthirsty such individuals may wish to be, they lose momentum as states develop. Then a magician may cast a spell we can call the Constitution and give citizens power over the leaders through the ballot box. This brings the wannabe leaders down to Earth but does not kill them. They band together into parties and try to influence people into voting them into power. Once in government, the victorious predators move both overtly and covertly to implement their policies. On occasion, this means fighting a war here and there. But in a democracy, the leaders must sell the idea of the war to the citizens who must do the fighting. By a curious coincidence, wars often bring prosperity to the winning countries. Memories of these benefits influence some citizens into a benign view of the policies. Those who disagree are branded unpatriotic and cowards. This creates a deterministic universe in which the majority are manipulated into conforming to the wishes of the dragon. Free will in an individual cannot access power. Through the socialisation process, every aspect of our lives is directed by minds beyond our capacity to understand as individuals. Even the language we use is distorted as the meaning of words is “enriched” by more subtle undertones, enabling the leaders to convince us to do as they wish. For these purposes, it makes no difference whether we’re being convinced to accept a religious faith, or believe in science, or follow the wishes of a dragon.
Lucius Shepard diagnosed with an acute case of dragonitis
So how are the opposition to fight the manipulative power of this sleeping dragon? There can only be so many Kent State massacres and less fatal public demonstrations. Alternative ways of finally killing the dragon have to be found. “The Man Who Painted the Dragon Griaule” (1984) suggests that, over a period of time, the artists of the world can slowly kill the beastly policies by overlaying them with the paint of more environmentally friendly policies. They can mine the earth for the poisons that create the most beautiful colours. When the world sees the old set of predator policies redefined by the veneer of modern sensibilities, they will be freed from the thrall of the dragon. Such are the dreams of the idealistic young and so probably doomed to fail because grasping the meaning in Griaule’s thoughts is beyond us. Who’s to say it was not the dragon’s idea that teams of painters labour for decades to make it look more beautiful? As “The Scalehunter’s Beautiful Daughter” (1988) and “The Father of Stones” (1989) demonstrate, sometimes the best you can do is get on with your life. There’s no point in worrying about things you can’t control. So the young girl moves inside the dragon’s body to spend her life as a carer, while our worthy lawyer is engaged to run the ultimately paranoid version of diminished responsibility as a defence to murder, “The dragon made me do it!” However, even though the body of the dragon may be already dead or, perhaps, merely dying, it still wants to make little dragons so “Liar’s House” (2004) sees its efforts to produce an heir. “The Taborin Scale” (2010) is discussed in another review linked below, which leaves us with the new story.
“The Skull” is set in contemporary South America. When Griaule was finally pronounced dead, i.e. the buyers thought it was safe to dismantle the body, the parts went to all parts of the world and so spread Griaule’s lies and political misinformation everywhere. The skull was bought as a single lot and, after much effort, transported to a country not unlike Guatemala where its presence stimulated much bloodshed. Later, when the trappings of modernity littered the landscape in the form of cities, the skull remained in the jungle, slowly accumulating worshippers. At this focal point, an American man meets a woman. Perhaps they fall in love but, in a moment of panic, he runs back to the safety of US soil. Later, when he hears rumours, he returns to find the skull has literally gone missing. When he explores further, he finds a form of reincarnation has taken place and the spirit of the dragon has a different voice.
From a metafictional point of view, all these stories could be viewed in completely different ways. Some have suggested that the dragon is itself a metaphor for fantasy fiction. The exploration of the body allows Lucius Shepard to investigate and reflect upon many of the tropes that have been an integral part of the genre. So, as readers, we should look beyond the superficial events described and see the broader discussion of storytelling. He can look at the different ways in which stories can incorporate myths to act as a lens through which to view realism. By questioning and challenging the current conventions of narrative, he can discover whether it’s possible to discover new ways of expanding the craft of telling a story, of reshaping words into different artistic forms. Such are the dreams of those who pursue metafiction. Although, if we wanted to be less theoretical, we could take a more literal view. As in all stories, characters have no true will of their own but must perforce act out whatever the author dictates. If we view Lucius Shepard as Griaule then the world he creates must always work in the way he specifies. There should be no escape for the characters. Except there’s a sense that, when there’s real love, the characters may achieve some degree of independence. That they can to a greater extent live their own lives. Perhaps if a pair of lovers were to meet up with Lucius Shepard in the real world, they might find him vulnerable. Try as he might to fly up and away from them, love might conquer his imaginative creativity and allow the couple to live happily ever after — as in all the best fairy stories.
Interesting jacket artwork by J. K. Potter.
For other reviews of books by Lucius Shepard, see:
Beautiful Blood
Louisiana Breakdown
The Taborin Scale
Two Trains Running
Vacancy and Ariel
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.
This collection has been shortlisted for the 2013 Locus Award.
Don’t Ever Get Old by Daniel Friedman
In Don’t Ever Get Old by Daniel Friedman (Minotaur Books, 2012), eighty-seven-year old Baruch “Buck” Schatz used to be a homicide detective with a reputation like Dirty Harry but, when his old friend Jim Wallace makes a death-bed confession he let a Nazi go for a bar of gold, this is a wake-up call. In 1944, they had been in a POW camp run by Heinrich Ziegler. Buck had additional problems because he was Jewish. The idea Ziegler might still be alive slowly eats at Buck, but his wife has her feet on the ground with lines like, “Nazis don’t have gold, Buck. You’re thinking of leprechauns.” From this you’ll understand Daniel Friedman does one-liners as our geriatric ex-detective slowly talks himself into the hunt. This is not, you understand, an easy decision. He’s not exactly the fastest man on his feet and his hand would probably shake if he pointed a gun at anyone.
What tips it for him are the contempt of the local police who think he should go back to being senile, and the Simon Wiesenthal Center. Apparently their agents vaguely looked for Zeigler but information went missing from the files and Avram Silver, the man who tried to keep the hunt going, was discouraged. When Buck and his grandson call Silver, he lets a little nugget fall. The Nazi may be in St. Louis. Suddenly, the wild goose chase got narrowed down to something more manageable. But why should Buck get back into the action? You can spout all kinds of bullshit about war crimes and justice but, for an eighty-seven-year old retired homicide detective, it would be personal. Ziegler almost beat him to death in the POW camp. Even after all these years, revenge would be sweet. For everyone else who knows this man might still be alive, the motive would be the gold. All Nazi leprechauns better watch out if the end of the rainbow is in St. Louis.
Books like this are slightly problematical. As I commented in my review of Voices of the Dead by Peter Leonard, our modern culture has developed ambivalence about the Holocaust. Anger has been replaced by silence. With the passage of time, the enormity of the crime has been eroded. In the public’s imagination, new atrocities have taken the place of the Nazi attempt at extermination. You need only think of Cambodia and Rwanda to see one group systematically trying to remove the other whether for political or racial motives. This is not intended to devalue the Holocaust nor, indeed, to dishonour the memory of those who died. But simply to see this atrocity as being part of a continuum of extermination policies based on racial or other characteristics of difference. But the real problem is in defining the benefit to society to continue the prosecution of those who have survived, the most recent being the case of Heinrich Boere. In 2009, this former SS member was charged with three murders. To get a conviction, you have to dehumanise an individual Nazi. This is what the Nazis did on a national scale to Jews as a justification for their extermination. Criminals like Boere who escape justice get old. It’s not clear what moral value accrues to a modern society for punishing one man for what he did sixty-five years ago. Boere began serving a life sentence at the age of ninety.
Daniel Friedman as seen by Barry Keziban
For me, the most interesting book on this subject remains The Iron Tracks by Aharon Appelfeld. It makes no bones about the personal nature of revenge. Unfortunately, Peter Leonard loses his nerve and changes the nature of the plot from revenge to self-defence. This brings me to Don’t Ever Get Old which has now won my Award for the most entertaining. It may seem a callous evaluation. The Holocaust and its aftermath are supposed to be treated with tactful reverence. Yet Daniel Friedman has assembled a cast of characters that win prizes for their excesses. Take Dr. Lawrence Kind as an example. He wants Buck to get the gold and give it to his mega-church because he’s been losing too much of the church’s money to the casinos in Mississippi. Perhaps he classifies himself as one of the deserving poor. Fortunately for Buck, he doesn’t hang around for very long. His morals were dubious anyway, although his choice of the woman to marry was probably right.
Norris Feely, who has the honour to be Jim Wallace’s brother-in-law, wants the gold because he’s a greedy, no-good son-of-a-bitch. Then there’s Yitzchak Steinblatt, a giant Russian who’s been sent to intimidate Buck, and T. Addleford Pratt of the Silver Gulch Saloon who reckons he’s entitled to the gold because it will pay off Dr. Kind’s gambling debts. I hope you’re following this because it should give you a flavour of the book and a good reason for wanting to read it. When our eighty-seven-year old ex-homicide detective is finally provoked into picking up his Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum (and refuses to celebrate his eighty-eighth birthday), you can imagine what his wife would say about the quality of his eyesight and the brain behind it. Then there’s Detective Randall Jennings. He’s not one of Buck’s biggest fans but figures he might solve a mess of crimes if he can keep up with the old guy. Then there’s Buck’s grandson, William Tecumseh Schatz (Tequila to his friends), who thinks his grandfather is an ornery, senile, half-crazy old fuck but, with some gold in the offing, perhaps they can work together.
In the end Don’t Ever Get Old does say some wise things about the passage of time and whether revenge solves anything. It also gives us a chance to see the value of a relationship between and old man and his grandson. As an expert in the semiotics of film might say, “The elderly in our cultural narratives signify mortality, either the annihilation of the self, or the preservation of wisdom by passing it on. This character’s story arc is a journey toward death, and toward finding his peace with that inevitability.” After I made you read that I hope I need not say anything hyperbolic. This is a very good book. You should read it.
This was nominated as a Best First Novel in the 2013 Edgar Awards.
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.
The Gingerbread House by Carin Gerhardsen
The Gingerbread House by Carin Gerhardsen translated by Paul Norlén (Stockholm Text, 2012) Hammarby Police #1 is set in Stockholm. There are five books in the series with a sixth on the way but, so far, only this first title has been released in translation.
I wonder why it is that some children seem naturally vicious while others are typecast as victims. The pattern of bullying has been with us over the generations. Perhaps it’s hard-wired into us by our genes as part of the process of natural selection, the very idea of which seems to get the Christians so worked up. Instead of being racially programmed to turn the other cheek, we’re natural predators and not afraid to establish a pecking order from the youngest years. This is all very well for those who come out as the top survivors, but physically and psychologically destructive for those on the receiving end of dominant behaviour. Indeed, the theme of The Gingerbread House draws on early childhood experiences that left one boy so damaged, he grew into the most self-effacing man it’s possible to be. He occupies the lowest rung on the office ladder, delivering mail to departments around the building. For the most part, he’s invisible and unappreciated. When people do notice him, it’s to make fun of him — some never lose their cruel streaks when confronted by a natural victim. One day as he’s returning home from work, he sees Hans, one of those who tormented him as a child. Having spent most of his forty years never allowing himself an original thought, he’s tempted to follow.
Interwoven into the narrative is a first-person account of the murderer’s feelings. The first man to die is Hans. He’s lured to the home of the woman teacher responsible for the class they all shared as six-year olds. The killer explains how much anger is buried inside. This confession is positively energising and prompts speculation on what happened to the other children who made those early years so special. Hans had become a successful estate agent, selling properties and earning enough to keep his wife and children in comfortable surrounding. The second victim has had less success, becoming a cheap prostitute working from a small apartment in a rundown area. With her, the killer is able to work slowly, reminding her how she and the others had ruined the childhood years with their persistent bullying. Such are the ways of the serial killer. Once they get a taste for death, they are hard to stop. Yet the sad fact is that a broken childhood can never be repaired. The only thing left is revenge.
Carin Gerhardsen — top of the Swedish bestseller list
On the side of justice, we find Chief Inspector Conny Sjöberg who’s in charge of the Violent Crimes Unit in Hammarby. He’s married with five children — the couple adopted twins from a victim of crime who died shortly after giving birth. There’s a nice moment of family life as they cook a meal and eat with the children followed by Conny and Asa considering an interesting question of ethics. How ethical is it to be indifferent to the fate of others? By implication this sets Conny thinking and, in due course, it will become relevant. The teacher in the relevant school was aware of the bullying but did nothing to stop it. Also in the team is Chief Inspector Jens Sanden, Police Assistant Einar Ericksson and Police Assistant Jamal Hamad whose family came to Sweden from Lebanon when he was young. He’s now completely integrated but not without some problems including the divorce of his Swedish wife. The final member of the team is Police Assistant Petra Westman who’s not well-informed on the culture and history of Lebanon. This lack of knowledge gets her into a discussion with Peder Fryhk, an apparent expert on the politics of war who picks her up in a bar after she’s had a drink or two. When she wakes in his bed, she’s not sure whether she’s been raped.
This sets us off on a police procedural to solve the murder of Hans. It’s a detailed investigation that eventually turns up three photographs showing the owner of the house as a teacher with groups of school children. Right up to the end, Conny Sjöberg is struggling to connect the other murders. They take place in different parts of Sweden and, to the eyes of the world, the only thing linking them is the age of the victims. Even when he talks with the school teacher, she can only remember the name of one child in the photographs and has no interest in any of the others. She also seems completely unaffected by the discovery of the dead body in her home. It’s only later when the police get a complete list of the children in the class that they realise there have been four murders.
This is a completely unsentimental story about the cruelty people inflict on each other. It does not flinch in examining the detail of the crimes they commit nor the strengths and weaknesses of those who carry the burden of law enforcement. The fact they have become police officers does not mean they are any better than those they chase. It merely signifies that they have jobs to do and most do the best they can. The tone is slightly dry and factual but Conny and Asa Sjöberg’s family life is rich. It makes a pleasant change to have someone at peace with the world in charge of a major police unit. It’s also refreshing to find a man who recognises his own fallibility. All he can hope for is time to put things right when mistakes are made. Petra Westman also features and manages to deal with her problems with relatively calm efficiency. This confirms a general sense of credibility about all the major characters. Even though we’re following a moderately deranged serial killer and watching the investigation as it struggles to make significant progress, the violence of each murder is not sensationalised. Rather it’s all taken as being routine. Taken overall, The Gingerbread House is a highly impressive first book in a series. I look forward to translations of Carin Gerhardsen’s remaining titles.
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.
Thinking about books 