Genre Reviews Web15 as of 01-30-06

Well of Lost Plots by Jasper Fforde
Reviewed by Ann Wilkes © 2006

I had serious doubts whether Fforde could pull off another novel in this same vein without becoming tiresome. And how much can one get excited over happenings in this fantasy land where books are made for the authors and acted out as the readers read them? To my great amazement and delight, the action was nearly non-stop and the subtleties of life in the Well of Lost Plots engrossing. As a writer myself, I especially enjoyed the various jobs of the Jurisfiction Department as they battled the powers that would attack the prose and adored the myriad of words unique to that place like Fforde’s punctusauroids, holestitching, bloopholes, verbisoid, adjectivores and parataxis. And superfluous Miss Danvers’ are used as an army and the Cheshire Cat is the librarian of the “great library” in the well.

Throughout the book, Thursday is seeking refuge in which to have her child away from the powers that would stand in her way such as Aornis, the vengeful sister of the villain, Acheron Hades, whom she killed in the previous Next (“previous Next” – what fun!) novel. Fortunately for the reader, she finds little rest. When she is not enforcing the laws and codes of the bookworld, fighting off flying, toothy grammasites and book vyruses, she’s saving lost cause books from the text sea, teaching generics new tricks and fulfilling the prophesies of the three witches.

In the previous book, Thursday’s husband (and father of her unborn child) was eradicated by one of the villains she fought in her capacity as literary detective for Spec Ops in the “outland.” Spec Ops is a sort of multilayered X-Files. Her husband was not merely killed but made to never have lived past the age of two so that the relationship they had never existed. Although they leave her memories of him in tact, she begins to lose them in the WOLP (aka Well of Lost Plots). She must do battle with her memory of Aornis, every time she sleeps. Aornis, a mnemonomorph, manipulates Thursday’s memories through Thursday’s memory of her, in an attempt to find her and destroy her.

Thursday is apprenticed to a Jurisfiction agent who has a life completely unlike that of her bookworld character. Miss Havisham from Dickens’ “Great Expectations,” when not being read, is a surly, forceful woman that gets her kicks trying to beat Mr. Toad from “The Wind in the Willows” in speed trials in the outland.

At the beginning of each chapter, Fforde features a snippet from some book of reference or other from the bookworld, or Thursday’s journal--a device that did not really add to the story and indeed was like reading a caption to a photo. While interesting us in reading an accompanying article, it does not add any new verbiage that wasn’t already contained in the text. I think some of the reason for his use of the device might have been to fill in the blanks for those not having read the previous books and to get away with infodumps but I found it an interruption to the flow. Another device that was okay once or twice that became annoying with overuse was his use of footnotes to interject anything that Thursday was receiving either intentionally or due to crossed lines on her footnoterphone. Especially when they went to the next page so you would have to backtrack to the previous page when getting back to the actual text.

Fforde’s wit did not get old, however. I am a Douglas Adams fan, although after a while, his writing style begins to wear on me. I didn’t find this the case with Fforde even though I expected it. He brought this fantasy world to life brilliantly. I intend to move on to the next Next novel as soon as possible.

Dead Lines by Greg Bear
Reviewed by Ann Wilkes © 2006 & John Darnell © 2006

As much as we both love Science Fiction, we have to admit that it deserves the Sturgeon rule (i.e. 90% of it is bunk).  Most science-fictional scribblings are depthless, wooden, without style, thoughtless episodes set upon shifting sand and set adrift by the most recent wind of scientific doctrine to come floating out of the universities.  It is therefore a real pleasure when one artist comes along to show the rest of us how it can be done.  Greg Bear is one of those artists.  He is a laureate who writes prose instead of poetry, but the wonder illuminating his words is no less real than Keats’ Hyperion or Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner.  His most recent novel, DEAD LINES is a case in point.  The prologue sends ice water through your veins, and then the story begins…

Peter Russell, one time soft porn writer/director/photographer, struggles to regain equilibrium after the loss of one of his twin daughters, divorce and alcoholism. He still has the Porsche, the Glendale house and visitation rights with his remaining daughter—and one massive inferiority complex. A routine visit to his long time benefactor, Joseph Benoliel sets him on a devilish course to heroic disaster involving a new communication device called a TRANS that allows users to call anyone, anywhere, almost for free—no bandwith issues need apply.

The line between the living and the dead has become gray and mautable and it all centers around this newfangled communication, this TRANS.  Peter tries to warn people who could make a difference, but because there’s money at stake, of course nobody listens.  In the end, he learns truths about himself, the murder of his daughter, how it all jumbled together to ruin his life, and how he just might be able to pull it all back together if he makes the right choices.

Peter’s denial, disbelief and morbid curiosity are palpable. With deep descriptions and convincing dialog, the reader is lured, hooked and held hostage to the unfolding, chilling plot. You may not like Peter but you’ll care about his fate as you go on this supernatural rollercoaster ride with him.

His surviving twin daughter brings out all that is good in him. Growing up fast after losing her sister to a vicious murder has hardened in her a determination and conviction that gives her the will to act when the time comes in spite of the outrageously frightening things she witnesses.

Bear wastes no paper with superfluous characters or meaningless interludes or detours. Old style movie makers, CEOs, eccentrics and New Age therapists add color and meaning to an unpredictable world you can’t tear yourself away from even though your pounding heart cries out to leave be. Each character has his or her part to play in the unfolding drama, each helping or hindering Peter in his quest for the truth and the solution to the terrible nightmare the TRANS has unleashed upon the unsuspecting consumers.

Neither one of us is much for ghost stories but a good yarn is a good yarn. The originality, suspense, the hard-core plausibility of the story’s presumptions as they are presented, and the unfolding mystery made this a welcome exception. Bear has written better (Anvil of Stars was an absolute masterpiece in John’s thoughts), but not by much, and few authors come near his level of sophistication in crafting a plot that is both wondrous and believable.  A word of caution, however.  Only the stout of heart should try this book; it hurts to read it, entertaining as it is.  And though the story’s ultimate ending is what one might consider happy, Peter Russell’s fate is not as satisfying.  Despite this dire warning from John, its still a good read, and for those of you who, like John and Ann, believe that dark literature has its place, this story is a must-read.