Book-Review 7 | unobtrusive lucidity

A Review of “The Night Circus”

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

“The Night Circus” began as a book club nomination, and is yet another example of why I love my book club, as this was likely not a book that I would have picked up to read on my own. Discovering that the author lives in an area with which I am familiar adds a degree of connectedness to the book, and the first 100 pages drew me into this quirky and unusual story so completely that I imagine one could hear the vacuum as I left reality. I remember sitting on the sofa with my wife, who was also beginning a new book, and reading nearly the first quarter of this novel in one sitting.

Which speaks to the aspect of “The Night Circus” that I think is its strongest, and that is the originality of the concept. This is the most original idea for a story that I have read in over a year, and that alone made the book difficult to put down, at least initially. Morgenstern introduces us to a magician and illusionist whose stage name is Prospero the Enchanter. Prospero, while in his dressing room in the theatre, is introduced one night to a daughter he didn’t know he had, and who has been left with him. The interesting thing that the reader learns about Prospero is that his illusions are not tricks of mirrors and distraction, but actual magic. We soon discover that there are many in the world who can manipulate various forms of magic, and that Prospero’s daughter is particularly gifted. So gifted, in fact, that an agreement is made between Prospero and a man we initially believe is his colleague or long-time friend (no spoilers from me here) for a competition, pitting their students against each other in a duel of magical skill that lasts until one of them no longer stands. Prospero’s daughter and her competitor, Marco, are unwittingly and irrevocably bound to this competition, unable to withdraw, having no choice but to complete the contest until only one of them survives.

Which is complicated by the fact that they fall very much in love with each other.

The circus, which appears without warning, is the venue for this competition. The circus only operates at night, opening at dusk and closing at dawn. It leaves as suddenly as it appeared, traveling around the world, and dazzling curious audiences with feats that could only be magical…and which, of course, are exactly that.

The issue with the plot is that it is its own worst enemy at times. It was around 100 pages from the end when it began to feel like a “love conquers all” story, which made me nearly not want to pick the book up again. And, in the end, it was a struggle to finish the book. Part of this is because explorations of magical illusions, tarot cards, and enchanting spells really aren’t my cup of tea. That said, the plot really did slow down in the end, although, to Morgenstern’s credit, it managed to conclude in a way that I found I hadn’t seen coming.

Morgenstern writes with the annoying habit of substituting commas for periods, creating run-on sentences that walk a thin line between being the signature style of a writer and a perpetual grammatical error. I’m not sure I decided on which it is, but it drove me to distraction throughout the novel, forcing me to stop and re-read sentences that sounded like a mash-up in my head. Which is a shame, because Morgenstern has a true descriptive genius in her narrative, invoking scenes in such sensory detail that I can still close my eyes and know what it would be like to walk through this circus. She quite deftly uses a technique of inserting the reader into the circus through short explorations of different tents at the beginning of each section of the book, walking the reader through what you see as you explore the circus, and combines these scenes with some foreshadowing that, on at least one occasion, was quite clever. Her dialogue, also, flows easily and has flashes of brilliance that caused me to stop and take note of the sorts of lines that you really have to digest before you can more forward.

Her characters are very well developed, and the reader has no issue knowing them at the end of the ebook’s 384 pages. Particularly, I found myself mourning their deaths, almost moreso than applauding their successes.

Perhaps a more substantive critique of the novel than stories about love and dark magic not suiting my particular palette, is that a theme never really develops by the end. Unless “love conquers all” is what Morgenstern was going for, she missed. Or she never intended a theme to be present. This, however, seems unlikely, as several potential themes manifest throughout the novel, but are never fleshed out into any complete thoughts. The closest I could get is that love empowers us to choose our own destiny over that which is written for us, but even that is shaky.

The novel would have been more satisfying had I been able to walk away with some sort of meta-message, but here it disappoints. If you’re interested in reading a debut novel that has achieved some popularity in popular circles, then “The Night Circus” might be a book you would enjoy. In fact, if you follow popular new releases, then you likely have it on your list already. If not, though, I’m hesitant to recommend it. I am, however, interested to see how Morgenstern’s career develops from here.

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A Review of “The Colorado Kid”

The Colorado Kid by Stephen King
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is the first I’ve ever read of Stephen King. I’ve never found myself attracted to King’s writing…a couple of glances at the films made of his novels and overhearing descriptions of his writing have generally been enough to rule him out for me. That’s not because I don’t think he’s a good writer…I’ve heard everything to the contrary. Its just that suspense and horror aren’t my bent.

What I have found myself drawn to lately, however, is the SyFy Channel’s original series, Haven. The series is based off of The Colorado Kid, this short novella by Stephen King. Some of the behind-the-scenes videos from the series discuss how veiled references to King’s other stories appear throughout the series, much to the delight of his fans. While I’m not interested in reading the rest of his canon…or really anything else by him…I was very interested to read the basis for the just-eery-enough program upon which I’ve become so hooked.

And when I call this a short novella, its just that: the ebook version finishes at less than 200 pages, so if you pick it up with any time to devote at all, you’ll likely finish it in one sitting. Like the television series, the story is set in coastal Maine. This proves to be the perfect setting for a mystery, because, as King states in his afterword, nowhere is quite so isolated to provide for the mysterious as an island. The story is of a man who is discovered dead on a beach by two high school students one morning, and the subsequent investigation that is sold short by local law enforcement, and performed largely at the hand of the two old newspaper reporters of the local paper (who will be instantly recognizable to fans of Haven). The unidentified man, to whom they begin to refer as the Colorado Kid, is eventually identified, and discovered to have not only be from Colorado, but to have been seen in Colorado hours before being discovered dead on a beach in Maine. Thus the mystery begins…and it proves nearly unsolvable.

What King does here that’s so fascinating is that he leaves the story at that: an unsolvable mystery (although he hypothesizes the potential for solutions in his afterword, he never identifies any). Rather, this is a story that explores the phenomenon of mystery, the fact that human beings are confronted with (what King views as) the unsolvable mystery of life, and compelled to reach toward it, to keep trying to solve it regardless of how unsolvable it turns out to be, and to keep our future generations motivated to continue probing the unknown, as well. The newspaper reporters pass on the unsolvable story to their college intern, who has become passionate about staying in Maine and carrying on this small newspaper. She is the heir to the story of the Colorado Kid, and we know that she will continue to pursue it. In his afterword, King states that wanting to know can more important than knowing. As much as he seems to eschew any rhyme or reason to the tragedy of life in his thoughts, he seems to be exploring an almost theological idea here, nothing short of the knowledge of good and evil.

There’s nothing frightening about the novel. I was left with some chills when I read it late into the night in a quiet apartment with most of the lights off, but they weren’t the “something’s coming to get me” chills, but rather the chills that accompany an excellent mystery. And that, ultimately, is exactly what this is: an excellent mystery. The supernatural element that drives Haven is absent (although one does ponder paranormal solutions to the mystery when all rational explanations seem to fail), and the reader is drawn into sleuthing with amateur sleuths who are passionate about discovering the answer to the mystery. King even weaves in a classic quote from Sherlock Holmes, and its very much at home here, even though the truth isn’t discovered by the end.

But the reader is still left with the hope that it could be discovered. And so we’re driven to always keep wondering. And that’s the part of the human condition that King is probing here, the thing that drives us to seek answers to “why?” when we’re confronted with the unanswerable.

You don’t need to be a fan of Stephen King to love this book. You don’t even need to be a fan of Haven. If you are a fan of a good mystery, then this should be on your shelf.

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A Review of “Carte Blanche”

Carte Blanche by Jeffery Deaver
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Having grown up enjoying James Bond’s adventures as a not-so-guilty pleasure from childhood onward, I quickly snatch up any new Bond novel that is released. I can trace the small handful of authors that have penned 007’s adventures from Fleming forward, and, for the most part, all of these authors have gone to great lengths to stay true to Fleming’s character. This is the second novel in four years to follow Bond’s adventures, the previous by Sebastian Faulks placing Bond in the height of the Cold War with a great depth of character development. That novel was a thoroughly enjoyable and Fleming-like adventure. In fact, Faulkes presented Bond as close to Fleming’s creation as Daniel Craig portrays Bond on the screen…that is to say, very much like Fleming’s Bond.

This is Deaver’s first entry into the pantheon of Bond authors, and the jacket made the book sound exciting and promising, placing Bond in a modern day, post 9-11 world in a rush to stop a terrorist event. The title is acquired from the fact that Bond is, as one of the best-of-the best “00” section agents, given “carte blanche” to complete his mission in any way possible. Deaver explores the political consequences that come with this freedom through the book in realistic and enjoyable detail.

Deaver, in fact, presents a nicely woven adventure, opening in the midst of a massive scale attack on a locomotive that Bond thwarts, and never slowing down through the weighty 400 + pages as Bond attempts to unravel a mysterious event labeled “Incident 20,” which is detected in whispers by British intelligence services, and promises mass casualties when accomplished. Deaver incorporates modern technology into Bond’s world quite well, and those of us who enjoyed Bond’s mid-career movies with all of his gadgetry will be quite enamored by Deaver’s imaginative descriptions, as well as all of the occasions that Bond’s mobile phone has an app for that. Deaver writes action sequences that are full but never over-stated, and does an excellent job of avoiding gratuitous gore or bloodshed in doing so, while never shying away from Bond’s using his well-known “license to kill” (although he never uses that phrase in this novel).

And, I’m sure that Deaver is an excellent thriller writer, with several novels already to his credit. I’m thinking, though, that perhaps he shouldn’t have tried Bond. Or, at least, he should have taken greater care to stay closer to the character.

Firstly, Deaver takes liberties with the setting of Bond’s adventures, placing him with an office known as the ODG, not MI6, where Bond has always been in his previous incarnations. However, since Deaver brought over the other major and necessary characters with Bond (i.e.: M, Bill Tanner, and Moneypenny), I was able to roll with the punches on this. Deaver also makes a quite interpretive dive into Bond’s family history, which, while proving to be an interesting subplot for the story, hung me up at times as being perhaps too great a liberty taken with the character.

Secondly, and most importantly, Deaver overuses a device to frustration in his storytelling. We’re led to a catastrophic event on several occasions in the book, breathlessly realizing that Bond has failed in his task to enormous consequences and loss of life, only to discover in the following chapter that he had actually swooped in and taken everyone to safety moments before the explosion. This was interesting the first time, odd the second, and actually made me want to stop reading after numerous other usages (and I’ve read at least one other review indicating the same frustration). This was complicated by the fact that Bond’s last minute victories were accomplished through forethought that is just simply untenable, as we’re taken back through previous chapters and told that his actions were actually to secret away a device that he would need later, or to obtain information from another character through that conversation that we thought meant something else. This is just unworkable in the reader’s mind, despite the fact that we’re dealing with a larger-than-life character.

And, along the lines of Bond being a larger-than-life character, thirdly: Bond is presented here as a “knight in shining armor” sort of character. This is accurate to a point, as he is driven to prevent an attack and save the lives of thousands of people. However, Fleming’s original cold and calculating Bond who follows orders, manipulates others without hesitation, and doesn’t spare lethal force, is missing here. Deaver tries to present Bond this way at times through various descriptions, but the descriptions are found to be at odds with Bond’s actions and moments of conscience.

Ultimately, Deaver presents a good story idea that is marred by poor execution of plot twists and very unsuccessful attempts to place a modern re-interpretation on a classic character. I’m not opposed to re-interpretations, but they need to be good ones. The book is well structured and well-paced, and the concept of the story is gripping. The book would make an average-quality Hollywood movie that most casual Bond viewers would likely enjoy.

Unfortunately, casual Bond viewers aren’t typically the ones (I don’t think) who read these books. The long-time fans are, and we tend to be purists. As such, we will find ourselves disappointed in Deaver’s offering, which is, in the end, only a mediocre delivery.

If you’re a general thriller, suspense, or espionage fan, this may be a good book for you. If you can remember and name all of Bond’s major arch-nemeses throughout his career, as well as your favorite weapons, then it may be a waste of your time.

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A Review of “Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children”

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The advantage to being in a book club with a group of friends that have widely eclectic reading tastes is that you find yourself exposed to books that you probably would never have heard of otherwise, to say nothing of actually reading. This is the case with “Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children,” a book that I didn’t know existed until it became my book club’s reading choice for September. I feared it was a children’s book at first blush, and it is, in fact, a young adult novel. A close inspection of the cover told me this would be a suspense story, and a scan of the synopsis told me it would a mystery. So, we have a mysterious suspense story. Or so I thought.

This novel was absolutely nothing like I expected. And I loved every page of it.

We’re introduced to our protagonist, Jake, the son of a wealthy family in Florida who really has no friends to speak of. His uncle is a Jewish survivor of the Holocaust, and tells Jake stories about his time in a home for peculiar children, where his companions held mysterious and altogether odd abilities, and were chased by monsters. Jake spends his childhood looking at old photos that his uncle shows him, photos that are too strange and mysterious to believe. He grows up knowing, as does his family, that his uncle is senile. Until one afternoon when his uncle makes a frantic phone call that “they” have found him, and Jake goes to see what is wrong, only find his uncle brutally murdered. Then, Jake sees the monster. From there, we’re propelled into a search for a home for peculiar children as Jake realizes that the fantastic stories were true, exploring themes of acceptance and heroism along the way, along with love interests and a good dose of time travel thrown in, as well.

What Riggs does that is ingenious is that he takes authentic photographs, black and white images from collectors that he has painstakingly researched, and compiles them here as central to the narrative. These are the sorts of old photos that we’ve seen, and at which we’ve laughed: a teenage boy lifting a huge stone with one hand, a young girl levitating above the ground, a girl standing over a pool with two girls reflected below her. These are the sorts of photos that make the hair on the back of your neck stand up when you first see them. They make you question, “that can’t be real, can it? They didn’t have the means to alter photos back then…did they?” Then Riggs builds a story around the photos (which are reproduced strategically throughout the book, and credited in the end, if you’re interested), asking “what if?” What if those images were real, and weren’t altered? What sorts of events…what sorts of people…would make up the story behind that? That story, as Riggs sees it, is the novel. While none of his ideas here are particularly new or groundbreaking, combining them under this premise is one of the most creative exercises I’ve seen in recent memory.

To make the novel more fascinating, Celtic mysticism lies hidden throughout, with veiled references to “thin places,” as well as a Celtic holistic view of Creation that runs as an understated through-line to the time travel plot device that Riggs uses so adeptly. In fact, the portal between realms lies inside of a cairn…and, while this felt a bit like he might have taken the idea from Stephen Lawhead, the fact remains that you can’t get much more Celtic than that.

Riggs has done his research, not only with the photographs, but also with the species of birds that develop into character types (no more on that lest I leave you with spoilers). While his writing is not astounding in its complexity, keep in mind that this is a YA novel, and he’s writing to that demographic. Still, his prose is punctuated with a dry wit that will leave you laughing, and occasional flashes of descriptive brilliance that made me stop to re-read the sentence.

As much as I’ve read critiquing how the plot devices are not overly original, the book still moves the reader through an unpredictable arc, and what I particularly love is that it doesn’t tie up all of the loose ends. In fact, the journey is only truly beginning for these characters by the final chapter, leaving me wondering if another novel might follow. Fans of the superhero genre will appreciate the exploration of duty to others and responsibility that comes with power, and fans of the suspense genre won’t be disappointed with scenes that are outright creepy if you’re reading late at night with only a single light in your apartment.

Whether or not YA generally suits your palate, “Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children” is a book that I would recommend to anyone. A delicious read that just leaves you smiling in the end…and perhaps wanting more…it is not a book that pretends to be more than it is. But it does what it sets out to do well, and is a refreshingly original way to construct a novel. Add this book to your shelf…and please let me know what you think.

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You can purchase the book here.

A Review of “A Visit from the Goon Squad”

A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I was hesitant to write a review of the novel that won the Pulitzer prize for fiction this year, partly because I don’t have the space for the analysis that I’d love to see this book receive here (not that I would be capable of that even if I did), but mostly because I’m just not sure I have the chops for it. My interest in A Visit from the Goon Squad was piqued by the title, and solidified by its winning the Pulitzer. Now that I’ve finished it, though, there is simply too much to say about this novel, which is nothing short of phenomenal and left me nothing short of breathless with the completely satiated feeling that comes when you recognize that you’ve just read something better than the last two years’ worth of books all put together. So, while others will and have doubtlessly reviewed this better than I will, this one, at the end of the day, is just too good to keep.

“Time’s a goon,” or at least that’s what more than one character says through the course of this book, and this, apparently, is the important thing that Egan is attempting to say in her novel. To narrow this down as the only theme would be a mistake, however, but it appears to at least be the characters’ most obvious and existential struggle. We begin with Sasha, a kleptomaniac who works for a record producer named Bennie in New York City. Sasha remains the closest thing to a single protagonist that we’ll get in the novel, as the novel is actually a collection of short stories through which Egan deftly and creatively switches protagonists as easily as she does time periods. The incidental character in the chapter you’re reading will become the protagonist in the next chapter, and some mental gymnastics are occasionally required to keep up with who has said what to whom and when several chapters previously. The stories jump backward and forward in time, gently revealing how each of the characters impact each other throughout their lives in a manner that calls to mind Salinger’s Nine Stories, and with wildly improbable events occurring (like someone being mauled by a lion during an African safari, or the futuristic addiction to handsets that appears in the end of the novel) that actually don’t feel quite so improbable at the time. What remains constant, though, is that time and age are profoundly impacting the characters’ lives, and they all struggle to survive and thrive in one way or another, some to more success than others. Some even manage to do so redemptively. Sasha and Bennie remain the constants, and, while not appearing in every story, are the obvious connections between the characters. This is especially true of Sasha, who leaves her mark on both the other characters and the reader as a girl you just can’t help but love, despite her shortcomings, as she searches for herself and somehow manages to bring out something good in those around her.

Early in the book, I started to realize that things were beginning to sound familiar, and found myself thinking that I had read this before. I then remembered that I had, as short fiction in The New Yorker a little over a year ago. I remembered the story because, standing alone, it made no sense to me other than being a well-crafted portrait of teenage angst. That, however, is part of the beauty of Egan’s craft. Each chapter can stand alone as a self-contained story. The genius, though, is how each one interweaves with all of the others in ways that you never quite expect but that you can’t help but love. Again, this is what leaves me reminiscent of Salinger, and may be part of why I loved this book so much.

Perhaps a deeper theme that lies not so subtly beneath the surface of Egan’s writing is that of a culture of public relations, which becomes very apparent about halfway through the novel when we are introduced to one of our characters who does public relations for a living. Manufacturing an image is something that all of these characters do to simply survive, growing their personal brands now and struggling to resurrect them when they die, as if doing so is to resurrect themselves. This exploration of image management ends in its logical conclusion in a futuristic New York City as Egan abruptly launches her final chapter into the realm of speculative fiction while losing none of her unique, literary zest.

And did I mention the music? The music that rings through this novel is a self-contained tour of rock history that will just bring smiles to your face as you recall these amazing songs. One reviewer wrote that he regretted that the book didn’t come with a soundtrack. I have to echo that sentiment, but also point out how the rhythms of music, right down to the pauses (which will play a major role as Egan explores the mind of an Autistic child…yes, she does that too) seem to move the plot along with the rise and fall in tempo that’s the mark of any good album. There’s music to Egan’s prose. The plot centers around the music industry and its peripheral components, following characters that become involved with music as children and follow it through their lives as the goon that is time fights them, some to more success than others. One of the most poignant moments for me was the character who, becoming a custodian in his later life but still playing his guitar and writing music, recognizes that there is no difference between the record producer in the shiny office building and the school custodian, that both are people, and both are equal.

There really isn’t much that Egan doesn’t tackle here. To list the themes and ideas with which she experiments would leave the reader shaking her head at first blush, thinking that it is too much, that no author can explore that many things in one novel, at least not well. Never once, though, did I feel that while reading. Somehow, Egan does it all well, in exactly the right amounts, as though mixing just the right sound for her album. And, even though each chapter left me pausing to digest what I had just read, the book also moves easily, because you’ll find that you really can’t put it down once you’ve started until you’ve reached its end, back where it started, glimpsing the characters with whom we started as they are in the future, somehow still managing to survive and re-invent themselves in the face of that goon. In fact, they’ve even managed to make a difference, to change the world around them for the better despite their previous mistakes. That redemption is what left this one in the realm of the amazing for me.

A Visit from the Good Squad is one of those works that dispels the myth that real literature isn’t written any more. No matter your taste, you need to read this book, because you will be better for having done so.

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You can purchase A Visit from the Goon Squad here.