The Tufted Shoot: April, 2003

A tree of immense girth grows from a tufted shoot; a terrace of nine levels rises from a clump of soil; a journey of a thousand miles begins under the first tread.

--Laozi, Dao De Jing, ch. 64

[Home | Current | Archive | Index | Exposition | Links]

Since I appear to have set a precedent on last month's page, and the chance to make these sorts of announcements is likely to be fairly limited, anyway, I suppose I should take opportunity to here note that I have latterly shuffled off my heretofore jealously guarded status as dashing bachelor-about-town. Which is to say, on June 1st, I got married, to a lovely lady and long-time friend. Pray for me, mes amies.

April 27, 2003

The Long Hunt, Debra Doyle & James D. McDonald (1996), 282 pp (pb).

This is the fifth book in the Magelords series, and unlike the last book in the series, which reached back in the past a generation for its story, this one reaches forward a generation. It focuses on two cousins, the sons of two of the main characters of the first three books. One of them is expected by the mores of his home planet to head out into the wide galaxy to make a name for himself, while the other learns of vague, politically-motivated threats against his parents. So they join up and go flitting off to see what fame they can gather and plots they can uncover.

I dunno, this one just didn't do much for me. None of the characters struck me as at all interesting, and the details of the plot were more than a little murky. Possibly if I'd been paying attention, it would have been a little less murky, but I realized some way through that I just didn't care, and I coasted the rest of the way through on inertia. Not bad, but certainly not all that great either. To try to do it some justice, it may be that I just encountered it at the wrong time, or was the wrong audience.

Top |

April 14, 2003

The Wake (Sandman X), Neil Gaiman (1997), 184 pp (gn).

This is it, the tenth and final compilation in the whole Sandman story arc. It's a fitting conclusion to the whole cycle, and partakes of a real "the king is dead, long live the king" sort of feel. I really liked the title itself, and the several different ways it can be read--ways that are evident in the issue titles of the compilation itself: "Which occurs in the wake of what has gone before," "In which a wake is held," "In which we wake." It's a volume where the family, friends, and all who have been touched by the King of Dreams--which is to say, all of us--gather to reflect on and discuss his passing. Following the three opening chapters, there's a postscript in which Hob Gadling, immortal and friend of Morpheus, meets up again with Death. There's a neat little story about an elderly counselor to the Emperor of China, exiled to the outer provinces because of his son's rebellion. I'm almost-but-not-quite certain this character is meant to be Lao Zi, purported author of the Dao De Jing. At any rate, it's a nice tale. And the whole thing winds up with "The Tempest," the story of Will Shakespeare writing the second of the two works that he promised Lord Morpheus (the first, of course, being "A Midsummer Night's Dream," appearing back in Dream Country). This would probably have had more impact had I read Shakespeare's play of the same name (shocking admission, I know), but it's still well done.

All things considered, and taken cover to cover, I like the art in this volume probably the best of all of them. I enjoy the style that the majority of the issues are illustrated in, while the tale "Exiles" has a spare elegance that fits it perfectly. And of course, Charles Vess returns to conclude things for "The Tempest." All in all, an enjoyable ending to a very enjoyable story cycle.

Top |

April 10, 2003

Preludes & Nocturnes (Sandman I), Neil Gaiman (1991), 188 pp (gn).

Nearing the end of the Sandman run, I finally went back and read the first volume, which I had missed when I started out. This volume sets the whole series going, obviously. It tells the story of how a certain trafficker in the occult and wizard wannabe in early 20th century England sets out to capture Death, and instead ends up capturing her younger brother Dream. Imprisoned in the occultist's basement for eighty-odd years, Dream finally wins free and sets off to recover the regalia of his office: helm, bag of sand, ruby stone.

Going from near the end of the series back to the first volume, it's easy to see the evolution in quality, both artistically and narratively. The artwork in this volume strikes me as rather pedestrian and functional, sufficient for the needs of the story, but certainly nothing to write home about. The story itself is likewise interesting enough, but not a patch on what Gaiman managed to come up with later on.

There's a creepy little chapter here where a character named John Dee (and what is it about a certain Elizabeathan astrologer that exerts such a fascination on some storytellers?) escapes from an insane asylum and wreaks an intimate little havoc on the unsuspecting inhabitants of a roadside diner, using the stolen ruby dreamstone in his possession. And the final chapter, "The Sound of Her Wings," is a nifty little introduction to Death, one of the more interesting characters in the following volumes. Still, I think based on this reading that the advice that Sandman can just as well be started with the second volume, The Doll's House, is generally sound.

Top |

April 5, 2003

The Inimitable Jeeves, P. G. Wodehouse (1924), 220 pp (tpb).

Spirits a bit down? Feeling a mite peckish, the humors not quite in their accustomed state of regulation? Bring on the Wodehouse, I say, that sovereign remedy for any mumpish disharmony of mood. It always seems to work for me:

The feeling I had when Aunt Agatha trapped me in my lair that morning and spilled the bad news was that my luck had broken at last. As a rule, you see, I'm not lugged into Family Rows. On the occasions when Aunt is calling to Aunt like mastodons bellowing across primeval swamps and Uncle James's letter about Cousin Mabel's peculiar behaviour is being shot round the family circle ('Please read this carefully and send it on to Jane'), the clan has a tendency to ignore me. It's one of the advantages I get from being a bachelor--and, according to my nearest and dearest, practically a half-witted bachelor at that. 'It's no good getting Bertie to take the slightest interest' is more or less the slogan, and I'm bound to say I'm all for it.

This is one of Wodehouse's earliest Bertie-Jeeves efforts, and it shows insofar as it lacks the really intricate plotting of later books like Joy in the Morning. Many of the characters and little plot devices that will show up in later stories are on parade here, however: the fearsome Aunt Agatha on the warpath, school chums in romantic difficulties, Bertie himself in inadvertent matrimonial peril, Jeeves taking silent and ultimately victorious revenge for Bertie's misguided sartorial rebellions.... The plot is loosely hung on the problems of Bertie's pal Bingo Little, a chappie who seemingly falls in love every other month or so, but can't seem to bring a single amorous infatuation to a successful (matrimonial) conclusion. It' s not much of a plot, but I was soon chuckling out loud, and as for the lightening of mood, well, mission accomplished.

(I can't resist pointing out the rather obvious irony of having my announcement above appearing just over a review of the doings of inveterate matrimony avoider Bertie Wooster.)

[Top | Home | Current | Archive | Index | Exposition | Links | e-mail]