May
17

Book Review: Moon Dance

Moon Dance (Vampire for Hire #1)Moon Dance by J.R. Rain

I got this as an audiobook as a cure for some of the drier nonfiction I’ve been listening to. It’s about what you’d expect of an urban fantasy. The protagonist is a vampire private investigator soccer mom named Samantha Moon. She’s asked to investigate the attempted murder of a man who’s a criminal defense attorney (and also a werewolf.)

Since I write urban fantasy, I have a thick filter for others’ work in this genre. Some aspects didn’t please me at all. Samantha goes on and on about how difficult it is to live as a vampire, but she’s able to walk in the sun! She can drink blood from a butcher shop! There are real humans alive today whose disabilities are far beyond what Samantha Moon whinges about. She worries about providing a good home for her kids now that she’s a vampire, but honestly, her lifestyle is less abnormal than someone who works nights. Her diet is less onerous than that of some people I’ve met. (The blood doesn’t have to be kosher or halal or locally sourced or certified organic.)

The mystery is competently done, but it’s not really central to the book so much as a vehicle for exploring Samantha’s vampirism and her relationship to it. That’s actually fine by me. Part of what I like about mysteries is the way in which the familiar path of the plot leads you along so easily that the reader can relax and admire the scenery. In this book, the scenery is her crumbling marriage and her vampirism. While I found her marital struggles interesting, the vampire part kind of bored me because I’ve read so many vampire books that nothing is really new to me anymore. Yes, yes, she’s powerful and hungry. Been there, done that. Tell me more about her relationship with her sister. I’m at the point where I want vampirism to be just a small aspect of her character, not the totality of it. It’s like when I read a mid-century novel and the author feels the need to explain to me drug terms, like “cold turkey” and “the works.” Or if a Regency author set aside a paragraph or two to explain what Vauxhall was and why they all had to get dressed up to go there. I know these things, and don’t need to have them explained.

Of course, I also know that I may not be the target audience. Some of the fantasy elements were clearly of the wish-fulfillment variety. Samantha can beat up professional boxers. Samantha kicks the shit out of bad guys (It’s okay if they die, because they’re gangbangers.) Samantha runs across and wins the heart of hunky men. Samantha is given mysterious jewelry by sexy strangers. I found the way she caved in to her husband to be implausible (given how blase she was about demonstrating her vampirism elsewhere, such as in the street and in the boxing studio, it didn’t make sense that she was so afraid of being outed that she’d cave in to heinous blackmail), but it didn’t ruin it for me.

This is all great popcorn stuff. It’s easy and fun, and while it’s not likely to make anyone’s top ten list, it’s good enough that if you want a reliable beach-read, this might be your series.

I got this book on audible, and the narrator did an excellent job. I didn’t cringe at the voices at all. Samantha sounds sultry, and everyone else sounds different enough to be distinctive without being annoying.

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May
02

Book Review: What’s Eating You?: People and Parasites

What's Eating You?: People and ParasitesWhat’s Eating You?: People and Parasites by Eugene H. Kaplan

For some reason, I thought this book would be funnier. Why would a book about parasites be funny? Maybe because I associate parasites with travel horror stories, and travel horror stories are almost always hilarious. It does manage to be funny at parts, but mostly it’s gross.

I always prefer non fiction books in which the author is presenting his or her own original work, rather than material gleaned from other books I’ve probably already read, so this meets my first criterion. This feels like a memoir of sorts, a collection of interesting stories and lectures from a long career teaching parasitology.

The author states in the epilogue that as a teacher, his goal is to make his students share in his fascination for the subject matter. I love reading about tropical medicine, diseases I don’t have, and lurid details of medical tragedies. This book does not make me want to study parasitology further. It also makes me want to never do any of the following:

Swim in a lake
Eat lettuce
Use a hand towel
Eat street food in 3rd world countries
Pet dogs
Eat raw meat or fish
visit Africa

There were some unforgettable stories in this, like why river blindness is called river blindness, and why schistosomiasis is now top on my list of “diseases I never want to have.”* Most gruesome was the woman who thought she was pregnant, only to find that it wasn’t a baby, it was a disgusting parasitic cyst 20 years in the making. But wait, there’s more! Let’s put it this way, flukes and tapeworms are not the grossest thing in this book. I don’t think of myself as squeamish, but I almost dry-heaved at the discussion of roaches and the icky things living in their guts.

I can tell the author really loves his subject matter, and there were times when the stories almost reached the point where they were hilarious, but something was missing. Maybe it was the narrator, whose dry-deadpan professor voice deadened the punchlines. I could tell in some chapters that the author was trying to milk the story for all it was worth, and sometimes it dragged it out too much. Also, the pure ickiness of the subject matter sometimes made the humor feel inappropriate, like a risque joke told by a dirty old man.

The science was compelling, if a little hard to follow (not a Biology major here), and the stories were generally good, if not quite excellent. There’s a chance that they’ll be much funnier and more interesting when read rather than listened-to.

I recommend this for people who like biology, for people who like travel stories, and for people who do not get disgusted easily.

*The list of “diseases I would like to have” remains empty.

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Apr
23

Book Review: The Warmth of Other Suns

The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America's Great MigrationThe Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration by Isabel Wilkerson

This is a story which has not often been told, the story of America’s internal migration of black southerners to the west, midwest, and north-east during the first half of the twentieth century.

Because I got this as an audiobook, it felt very much like an extra-long episode of “This American Life.” Wilkerson chose three separate families and followed their exodus from the southern (Louisiana, Florida, Mississippi) states of their birth. She focused on one particular person from each family, but included how the move impacted their extended family as well.

I did have some trouble following along with the stories, because there seemed to be so many different characters that I couldn’t keep track of who was who. I figured it out mostly by the end of it, but I’d missed out on some of the beginning information because I couldn’t connect the characters. It may have been different if I had been reading it in a chair and concentrating instead of listening to it on my commute.

Because this book deals with race relations in America which–let’s be honest–still aren’t that great, it’s likely to hit your indignation buttons if you’re even a little bit liberal. One example was the story of recent immigrants to American who rioted and destroyed the property of a black family for the crime of legally renting property in their neighborhood. The irony of first and second generation Americans protesting to keep “them” out of their neighborhood, when “them” were people whose families had been in American for hundreds of years, was pointed out by the author. She manages to avoid most melodrama and let the facts speak for themselves.

There are a few demographic facts sprinkled throughout the book, but the bulk of the content involves just the factual and emotional memoirs of these three families. This is a good way to get a feel for the era, and to feel some empathy for the people involved, but those who want something drier and more statistics-based might be disappointed.

I recommend this for people who want an easy way to learn about an important aspect of American culture. If you’re interested in American history at all, this should be on your list.

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Apr
20

Book Review: Wicked Plants

Wicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln's Mother & Other Botanical AtrocitiesWicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln’s Mother & Other Botanical Atrocities by Amy Stewart

Stewart wrote FLOWER CONFIDENTIAL about the floral industry, so one can posit that like me, she loves plants. Like me, she’s also fascinated with poison and murder. The book is lush with exquisitely beautiful (and sometimes exquisitely macabre) illustrations. With short chapters, plentiful illustrations, and a thorough table of contents, this is a fast read.

(I’m not going to go so far as to say that this is the perfect book for the back of the toilet, but WICKED PLANTS does have short entries, each of which is interesting, and yet none of which will take longer than five or ten minutes to read. Just sayin…)

It’s a little light on the science for science fans, but at least there aren’t a huge cast of organic chemicals clogging up the prose like characters in a Russian novel. It’s a little light on the gardening tips for passionate botanists, but has enough new facts in both categories that you’ll learn new things. I didn’t realize that I had three of these plants in my own yard. I knew oleander was poisonous (everyone knows that) but sago palm?

This is a good gateway book for people who aren’t into non-fiction but would like to be. It’s also a good book if you have anyone in your life who doesn’t read much because they think novels are a waste of time.

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Apr
18

Book Review: I Am Legend

I am LegendI am Legend by Richard Matheson

The main problem with reading classic literature of the sort which has influenced an entire genre is that the most groundbreaking and creative aspects seem trite and derivative. I chose this because, as a novella, it consists of fewer hours than a full novel, and because it’s considered a classic. Since I hadn’t seen the movie, I didn’t know much about what the story was about (except a non-vampire in a world of vampires) and although I knew there was some sort of “twist” ending, I wasn’t sure what it was.

Robert Neville is the uninfected protagonist, the lone human who is plagued by vampires at night. The white-faced vampires plead with him to come out of his house so that they can drink his blood. By day he hunts them, stabbing stakes in their hearts. He’s got a fortress that would make any libertarian proud. He has boarded-up windows, generators, and a supply of canned and frozen foods. He listens to classical music constantly, to drown out the moans and pleading of the undead, and he drinks whiskey constantly to drown out his sorrowful memories.

One of the disadvantages of an audiobook is that you can’t stop and flip it over to find out information, such as who wrote it, or when it was published. It’s set in 1975, but even without looking up the publication date (just checked–Google says 1954) I could tell that it was written well before 1975. A big tip off was that Neville had a solid middle-class job, yet didn’t have a car. I can’t conceive of someone not having a car in Los Angeles without that defining their existence. Not having a car in Los Angeles is like not having a boat if you live in a swamp.

More telling for me was the way in which the gender roles were presented. Reading older literature is like having a window on the past. Neville lives in a 1975 that has never seen women’s lib. When his wife dies, he stops cleaning his house, showering, etc. I guess back in the 50′s, a man left such civilized niceties as “soap” and “razors” to the womenfolk, never figuring that these are skills he might accomplish on his own.

The women are presented as predominantly vessels of love and desire. His late wife exists only as a vehicle for Neville’s love and sorrow. Her reactions to the dust storms and the plague aren’t even hinted at, nor are those of her daughter. The female vampires he kills and sometimes experiments on are also mere objects to him, and he blames them for the lust which torments him. (How much more tragic when the apocalypse happens in the days before varied and plentiful porn!)

Neville is not a nice guy. He’s a serial killer who loves to prey on the helpless. He hates everyone and everything, including himself. That, at least, I could empathize with. I hated him too. At one point, he sees a stray dog that somehow survived the vampire sickness, and his clumsy attempts to woo the dog give him some human appeal, but not enough to make up for the rest of his behavior. I didn’t feel sorry for him, or root for him. Was I supposed to?

I knew from the first word to the last that I was never intended to be the target reader for this novel. Literature from other centuries always makes me feel slightly uncomfortable. It’s one thing if the protagonist has a narrow worldview, but when the author doesn’t seem to understand anyone outside his narrow demographic (or care that they don’t), I feel unhappy. I believe if you want to write about people, you have to try to understand people who don’t have the same skin color and plumbing you do. Modern authors seem to take this more seriously.  For example, because brown people didn’t exist before 1970 (or so television has told me) all of the people in this story are white. Los Angeles without Hispanic culture feels as authentic as Seattle without rain.

I imagine the target reader for this novella was a SF fan (presumed male) back in the 50s, who probably would have loved the idea of holing up in his modest ranch house (with all the modern conveniences!), venturing out like a diurnal VanHelsing to prey on helpless, vampiric women.

Would the target reader have seen his behavior as noble? Would they have had a shocking twist as they realized, perhaps late in the novella, that his behavior was abhorrent? I rolled my eyes that the only woman allowed to speak has to be a sex-object. Would the target reader have been oblivious to the fact that the woman he meets just happens to be young, happens to be pretty, happens to be single, happens to be white, happens to be wearing a dress?  When she confesses her love for him, I felt disgusted. She was almost a real character before the author made her do that. Really? This murderer chases her down, hits her, kidnaps her, and then interrogates her in a threatening manner, and she still falls for him in less than 24 hours? I cry shenanigans. That’s not a person, that’s a fantasy.

I got this from audible, and while the narrator’s version of Neville wasn’t bad (if a bit over-dramatic for my taste) I HATED how he did the women’s voices. Note to anyone who does voice acting: reading anyone’s part in a falsetto says “I feel nothing but contempt for this person.” Reading all the women’s voices in a falsetto makes me furious.

I recommend this novella for English classes and discussion groups where people want to talk about society and morality and the like. It’s pretty dark and depressing, so I don’t recommend it for people who are hoping for hope and romance.

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