Best and Worst of 2008
Just because I only posted three book reviews during 2008 (and two of those were written within the last five days so they don’t count,) doesn’t mean I haven’t been reading. I read 81 books this year, the most I’ve consumed since I started this blog back in 2006. However, writing about reading has taken a back seat over the last last twelve months as I’ve focused my attention on my own creative writing projects.
I know it is cliche to say a book changed your life, but in my case, Ariel Gore’s How to Become a Famous Writer Before You’re Dead, actually did. In the review I wrote back in August 2007, I said the book had motivated me to generate my first literary essay in years. It also motivated me to start writing poetry again even though, at the time, I hadn’t written so much as a stanza in over three years.
I spent the next seven months generating new poems and revising old ones. When I felt I’d accumulated enough decent material I started submitting to literary magazines, and, to my great surprise, I began getting acceptance letters. My first poem was published in April, my most recent was published two weeks ago. By the end of the year I will have had ten poems published in seven different online and print literary magazines.
I started writing short stories when I was ten, poetry when I was fourteen. For the last twenty years all I’ve wanted was to see my work in print, and now I have. I am very happy. My mom can’t stop bragging about me to her friends, and my friends can’t stop bragging about me to each other. Each success has pushed me to work harder and write more, which is why this blog has been languishing.
I hope to revive it though. You see, the more I write, the more I want to read, and I have been devouring books at a pace that would make a Nascar racer sit up and take notice. There’s a reason for that. This year, I discovered genre fiction and, by extension, re-discovered the mass market paperback.
All my life I’ve been something of a book snob. Ever since I out grew YA fiction back in junior high I’ve turned my nose up at genre fiction, buying into the view that it’s nothing but fluff written by substandard writers. However, having grown bored with the three primary tropes featured in most literary fiction (working out the mommy/daddy issues, surviving marriage, and dealing with death), I decided I needed to expand my horizons. Having always been a fan of fantasy films, I figured I might like fantasy literature if I gave it a chance.
I discovered that the fantasy genre is home to a number of talented writers and story tellers. I found that I tend to favor urban fantasy, so the books included in this years list will be heavily slanted in that direction. After developing a taste for fantasy, I decided to give science fiction a shot, then romance. I have yet to move on to horror or mystery and suspense, but I’m getting there. As such, you’ll notice most of the books on this years best and worst list fall into the genre category.
The only reason I’ve been able to read as many books as I have this year is because I’ve read almost nothing but genre fiction for the last six months, and genre fiction tends to come in the mass market paperback format. Not only are they shorter than your average piece of literary fiction, but they cost less as a result, something my aching bank account was thrilled to remember. I can purchase five genre books for under fifty bucks where the same amount of cash might get me three literary novels if I’m lucky, and with the economy the way it is that is a definite selling point.
Enough of my blathering. I’ve offered up my excuse for not keeping up this blog, now it’s time to tick off the best and worst books of 2008. As usual, the lists consist of books I read this year, not necessarily ones that were published this year.
The Best:
1) Landing by Emma Donoghue – With characteristic sensitivity and compassion, Donoghue writes about the pleasures and pitfalls of long distance romance in this effecting love story. In vivid prose, she paints a picture of two women struggling to reconcile conflicting desires; to maintain order in their lives on one hand, and to find a way to be physically together on the other.
2) The Year of Ice by Brian Malloy – Brian Malloy excels at creating characters with tons of faults who still manage to elicit an equal amount of sympathy from the reader. Last year, Malloy’s second novel Brendan Wolf was number two on my “Best of” list. His first novel, The Year of Ice, delivers a similarly compelling protagonist in Kevin Doyle, a high school senior struggling to come to terms with his mother’s death, his father’s infidelity, and his own sexual orientation. A rich and highly moving read.
3) Bitten by Kelley Armstrong – Like The Year of Ice, Bitten, the first book in Armstrong’s Women of the Otherworld series, is a story about self-acceptance, albeit with a fantastical twist. Turned into a werewolf by her former fiance, Elena Michaels spends years trying to deny her wolf nature. She cuts ties with her pack and attempts to live a normal human life in Toronto. When an emergency calls Elena back to her pack, she is forced to deal with the family she left behind and parts of her personality she would rather ignore. Elena is a fully realized character, one who is easy to like and even easier to root for. Armstrong delivers a tale full of murder, mayhem, romance, and excitement that manages to evoke thrills while simultaneously provoking thought.
4) Keeping it Real by Justina Robson – Book one of Robson’s Quantum Gravity series is a delightful mix of fantasy and sci-fi. When a hole is torn in the fabric of the universe that separates the various dimensions of existence, inhabitants of the Earth-like Otopia must learn to live with elves, demons, and elementals. Enter Lila Black, a government commissioned cyborg who is charged with the task of protecting one of the most successful rock and roll musicians in the universe. Full of action, adventure, political intrigue, and tons of humor, Keeping it Real pokes fun at just about every sci-fi/fantasy convention imaginable, making it an incredibly fun read.
5) Poison Study by Maria V. Snyder – I have never been a fan of romance novels, but this one showed me that, when done well, they can be breathtaking. The story revolves around Yelena, a nineteen year old girl condemned to death for murdering her guardian. When offered the chance to avoid death by becoming the Commander’s food taster instead, she jumps at the opportunity, and leads the reader through a story of political unrest and constant suspicion. Snyder must be applauded for giving us a fully developed, well-paced, and completely earned romance, one that is both satisfying and essential to the plot.
The Worst:
1) American Youth by Phil Lamarche – This is one of those “coming-of-age” novels praised for the realism with which it portrays today’s teens. Books in this vein often depict kids doing drugs, getting drunk, having sex, and engaging in all manner of self-destructive behavior that is so over the top it’s hard to believe anyone could honestly view them as ”realistic.” Set against the backdrop of an economically depressed town dealing with the aftermath of a teen shooting incident, this dull story serves up nothing but flat characters and a far too pessimistic opinion of American youth.
2) Conversations with the Devil by Jeff Rovin – My big problem with Conversations with the Devil was that Rovin lost the plot half way through the book. When Frederic, on of psychologist Sarah Lynch’s teenage patients, suddenly commits suicide she is determined to figure out why. After discovering Frederic was a closet Satanist Sarah decides to conduct a ritual to find out what happened to his soul after death. When the Devil himself answers her call Sarah kind of forgets why she raised him to begin with and spends the rest of the book trying to get rid of him. Having become invested in Frederic I was disappointed that Sarah never followed through on her mission to find out what happened to him. That, in addition to a cliched and anti-climactic ending, made this a thoroughly unsatisfying read.
3) WebMage by Kelly McCullough – It’s tough to buy into the premise that magic has gone digital when the author never really bothers to explain how or why it’s possible to merge sorcery with cyberspace. In a story full of one dimensional characters, a decent hook is mandatory and McCullough left his in the tackle box.
4) Fantasy Lover by Sherrilyn Kenyon – This book had everything I’ve come to expect of a bad romance novel. Superficial characters? Check. Cringe-worthy sex scenes? Check. Simplistic prose? Check. Provokes in reader an overwhelming desire to throw the book across the room? Check.
5) Touch the Dark by Karen Chance – I love vampires, but not even a herd of them could save the first book in Chance’s Cassandra Palmer series. In Touch the Dark, Cassandra petitions the vampire senate to protect her from the vampire mob. Cool premise. But, far from being the kick-ass urban fantasy heroine the cover blurbs claim her to be, Cassandra Palmer is little more than your stereotypical blond bombshell who spends all her time running, hiding, and letting the men in her life protect her. That is, when they aren’t busy trying to get her into the sack. If I hadn’t been so invested in the hero, Mircea – a far more compelling character than Cassie – I would have never continued on to the second book. To be fair, book two, Claimed by Shadow, is better than Touch the Dark, and book three, Embrace the Night, is even better than book two. However, if you want to read about a REAL kick-ass heroine, try book one of Chance’s Dorina Basarab series, Midnight’s Daughter.
Landing by Emma Donoghue
In Emma Donoghue’s fifth novel, Landing, “Love isn’t a problem, geography is.” So says Jude Turner, a twenty-five year old museum curator who has spent her entire life in the small town of Ireland, Ontario, population six hundred. The love she’s referring to is Sile O’Shuanessey, a thirty-nine year old flight attendant whose roots are in Dublin, Ireland. After meeting on a trans-Atlantic flight neither woman can get the other out of her head, and they start up a flirty correspondence that slowly blooms into full blown love.
Jude and Sile appear to be total opposites. Jude is young, androgynous, loathes technology, adores small town life, and has a great respect for history. Sile is older, feminine, tech-savvy, well traveled, and loves urban living. But scratch the surface and you find both women are stuck in ruts dug by the repetitious natures of their respective lifestyles. Jude finds herself hanging around with the same people she did in high school, engaging in the same activities day in and day out, while Sile spends her days stuck in an airplane dealing with the same moody passengers flight after flight. It’s the stone of their long-distance relationship that disrupts their routines, sending ripples through every aspect of their lives.
The long distance relationship itself isn’t just the cause of each woman’s internal struggle, but an external depiction of it. It allows both women the emotional benefits of commitment without any of the inconveniences. There’s no fighting over where to eat dinner Friday night; no having to play referee to the lover and best friend who can’t stand each other. Both Jude and Sile are able to continue living their lives without significant interruption. But as their relationship turns serious, Jude and Sile begin to view the arrangement in a negative light. When the two meet up in New York for a weekend together, rather than look forward to the three days they have with 
each other, each sunrise and sunset only reminds them that they will have to part again. On page 196 Sile’s best friend Jael observes that the long distance relationship ”Sounds like all the hassle of being in a couple, and none of the pleasure.” Still stubbornly attached to their home towns, however, neither Sile nor Jude is willing to make any compromise that will require major change in their lives. When the strain of maintaining separate lives becomes to much for the relationship to bear Jude and Sile must decide whether to remain chained to the past and rooted in routine, or to risk taking flight and seeing where their relationship lands.
I am a big fan of Emma Donoghue, and as with all of my favorite authors, she consistently produces work that is rich in themes worthy of examination. One could write a critical essay on the how the arbitrary constructs of “time” and “place” work in the novel. Or ask what is it that physically and emotionally anchors us to specific locations? Donoghue returns to the idea of taking flight and eventually landing throughout the novel, and how the two seemingly opposing actions often overlap and mimic each other.
While it would have been easy for Sile and Jude to come across as cliches, the consummate city mouse and country mouse, Donoghue gives them depth and individuality. Jude has a strong sense of self that allows her to be open about her fluid sexuality even in a town where everyone knows everyone elses business, and Sile is incredibly kind and nurturing despite a fast paced jet-setter lifestyle that often forces her to deal with highly demanding individuals. The women have enough in common that it’s easy to understand why they like each other, and are in just enough disagreement for the reader to understand what is keeping them apart.
Falling in love is like taking to the air. There’s the soaring, butterflies in the stomach feel of the honeymoon period that must eventually give way to the apprehensive, stomach-in-your-throat feeling brought on by the realization that what goes up must come down. With her trademark compassion and sensitivity, Donoghue has crafted a satisfying read about the risks of falling and the rewards of landing.
Magic Lost, Trouble Found by Lisa Shearin
You should never ever want to put a good book down. If you’re anything like me you become irritated whenever life requires you to tear yourself away from one, in order to, say, go to work or take a phone call. A not-so-good book does not elicit the same response. Not-so-good books can be placed on your bedside table and left to collect dust for a couple of weeks without producing any sense of urgency to return to it. Lisa Shearin’s Magic Lost, Trouble Found is more likely to engender feelings of the latter rather than the former.
The main character of this fantasy offering is Raine Benares, an elf, and sorceress of marginal ability with the power to locate lost people and objects. When a powerful magical amulet comes into Raine’s possession she finds herself at the center of a web of political intrigue. Everyone from the goblin king’s insane right-hand shaman, to the king’s exiled brother, to the magical community’s chief law enforcement official, want to get their hands on the amulet. With the help of her friends, Raine must figure out who to trust and how to keep the amulet out of the wrong hands.
What kept me from really warming up to this book was the sense that I’d read it before. There is very little to distinguish it from the many other fantasy novels out there. Raine is spunky, independent, resourceful, and her first person narrative is whip-smart and sarcastic…just like every other fantasy heroine sharing shelf space with her at the local Barnes & Noble. She comes with a band of side kicks, including a wise mentor, a sexy goblin, and a noble magician, who are all just as banal.
I found Shearin’s writing distracting. Raine’s street-smart narration doesn’t sound natural. Full of clunky turns of phrase and bizarre syntax, Shearin sounds like she’s trying way too hard to sound clever. Furthermore, attempts to pack too much information into dialogue leaves conversations sounding just as forced as the narrative.
The speed at which the action unfolds is also frustrating. Though the novel opens with an action sequence, the space between pages 38 and 147 is filled with nothing more exciting than Raine walking around asking her menagerie of friends and allies for information. This slows the story to a pace that would make a tortoise chuckle, and doesn’t exactly make you want to continue reading.
When it comes to the first book in a series or trilogy, even if the story doesn’t dazzle me I may very well read the rest of the series. Though the main character may not grab me, one of the secondary characters might and I’ll continue on to the next book so that I can find out what happens to him or her. Or the premise may be so interesting that I’ll want to see how the author goes on to develop it. After finishing Magic Lost, Trouble Found I felt no such pull to move on to the second Raine Benares book. Fantasy is all about magic, and Shearin never locates the magic required to keep her readers spellbound.
