BOOK REVIEWS

1998, Part F: July

1998, Christian Sauvé

This month:

Also included are a few very short reviews of some more books: Different Seasons (Stephen King), Hard Fall (Ridley Pearson),  Realtime Interrupt (James P. Hogan), Earthling (Tony Daniel), Interview with the Vampire, (Anne Rice) and Hard Drive (David Pogue).

 

 

L.A. Confidential
James Ellroy

Mysterious Press, 1990, 496 p., ISBN 0-89296-293-3

Faithful readers of these chronicles will remember that I had finally seen L.A. CONFIDENTIAL shortly after it was re-released in February. Given my reaction ("...as enjoyable as a good book... triumph of storytelling... masterful script... excellent performances... L.A. CONFIDENTIAL gives me back my faith in cinema."), it was only a matter of time until I broke down and read the book.

So, when I had the chance to buy a (very bruised, very tattered, very cheap) first hardcover edition, I didn't hesitate and plunked down the change.

No regrets.

Opinions about book-to-movie adaptations are usually uniform: People prefer the book, are disappointed by the movie and hate the unnecessary changes the scriptwriters thought necessary. In the worst cases, the entire message of a book can be completely perverted by the adaptation, not to mention the novel's storyline.

So, it's a surprise to notice that in the case of L.A. Confidential, they not only made significant changes, but that they work.

Both versions of the story are about crime and corruption in Los Angeles during the fifties. Three cops must unravel a complex cover-up and learn to deal with each other: Bud White, a thug who likes to impose his justice on wife-beaters. Ed Exley, a straight-arrow policemen with dark ambitions. Jack Vincennes, Hollywood junkie and no stranger to the occasional bribe.

The novel L.A. Confidential is huge and takes place over an eight-year period. The movie has an unspecified duration of about six months. Two of the three main characters are considerably less honourable in the book. The "dead father" subplot has been added to the movie, while entire chunks of the book are missing from the film. A significant character loosely based on Walt Disney is completely gone. The orders of certain event has been switched around, as well as who did them.

Given this, it would be natural to believe that the movie has no resemblance to the book any more. That's not far from the truth: Save from the opening sequences and the final scene, the film adaptation takes considerable liberty with the material.

But what remains is the noir atmosphere, the attitude itself of corrupt cops, flawed protagonists, seedy crime and burgeoning California that permeates the book. James Ellroy's sparse but incredibly dense style is the same one used in the movie. Despite the complexity of the tale, only a few rough spots exist.

As a crime novel, L.A. Confidential deserves the term "epic". It mixes together cops, criminals, Hollywood, politics and real-estate development. At least three separate crimes are intricately mixed up together. It features a breadth of characters that's hard to match elsewhere. Ellroy has attempted big, and mostly succeeded.

However, it might be a good idea to see the film first. Not only does it clears up the opening of the book considerably (and gives you the impetus to go forward), but it's sufficiently different to keep you surprised throughout.

In fact, I think I will take the heretical position of saying that I like the movie storyline more than the book: It's more focused, offers more thematic closure and is probably more enjoyable as a movie than the novel is as a book. As William Goldman said in his March 1998 "Premiere" article, the final eight minutes are unnecessary, but it's still a great movie. The screenwriters fully deserve their Best Adaptation Academy Award: They have produced a very complex yet gripping work of art from another work of art.

Whether you've seen L.A. CONFIDENTIAL or not, James Ellroy's L.A. Confidential is still strongly recommended for crime fiction fans. Don't miss it!

 

 

Takedown
Tsutomu Shimomura with John Markoff

Hyperion, 1996, 509 p., 7.99$C., ISBN 0-7868-8913-6

As today's world is becoming increasingly dependant on electronic networks for communications, business and entertainment, the potential for abusing these systems is also expanding. On one side, clever young anarchists with time to lose and the "Information should be free!" slogan. One on the other, computer security specialist and corporations with information to protect.

It's not only a technical issue. Without effort, it also touches ethical, philosophical and personal issues. In an age where the Internet is now offering more free information than was available to every human that ever lived before, property issues are become more important than ever.

Unfortunately, Takedown only briefly touches on these important questions. This might not necessarily be a criticism of the work, given that the book is about one particular instance of computer crime.

On Christmas Day 1995, somebody broke into Tsutomu Shimomura's system, copied files and went away. Unfortunately for the cracker, Shimomura happened to be an expert in computer security. Takedown details Shimomura's hunt for the culprit, a hunt that eventually took him to a Raleigh suburb for the apprehension of the suspect.

There have been a few books on the subject of computer security, and Takedown is an average entry. It's an enjoyable book: simply written, not too technically obscure, satisfyingly resolved. Despite the cover blurbs, it's not as good as a detective novel, but it holds its own. The process of detection, identification and localisation of the computer cracker is gradually revealed, and the chase even becomes exciting when Shimomura has to go on the terrain to investigate. (You can tell that this isn't a movie by the fact that the cracker and Shimomura don't meet until after the cracker's apprehension.)

But somehow, Takedown isn't as fascinating as it should have been. Worse, a better similar book exists. The Cuckoo's Egg, by Clifford Stoll, told the tale of an eclectic astronomer who managed to catch teen crackers by luring them in a network of false information. Not only are the stakes higher in The Cuckoo's Egg (military info versus cellular phone software), but Stoll is -I'm sorry to say- a far more interesting individual. Both books work in a considerable amount of detail of the two men's personal lives, but whereas Stoll is a genuine eccentric, Shimomura comes out of it as a brilliant hacker desperately trying to pass himself as "normal". His interests in skiing, hiking and other pursuits besides computers seem tacked-on to humanise the characters, not as essential parts of the narrative. His romantic interest also seems -with apologies to these two- pretty weak.

In the end, we're left with an interesting tale of modern detection, spiced up by a deliciously portentous "physical" dimension when the narrative moves to Raleigh. Critics voiced on the Internet have complained that the Intruder's side of the story has been given short thrift, but that's an insignificant assertion given the source of the story. Far more damaging is the rather obnoxious narrator and the sometimes-ridiculous attempts at humanizing the character. Whatever your opinions about cracking, Takedown is unlikely to convince anyone. Readers, let them be laymen, hackers or crackers, will get out of the book what they bring into it.

 

 

Kilo Class
Patrick Robinson

Harper Collins, 442 p., 1998, 35.50$C., ISBN 0-06-019129-5

In the Science-Fiction community, there is a certain prejudice about the so called "Hard-SF" segment of the genre, which is the epitome of scientific exactitude in SF. This concern has led critics to charge that the genre consistently privileged scientific content (ie; the "Science" in "SF") over such niceties as characters, plotting or writing style. ("Fiction" in "SF")

Amusingly, this debate also takes place outside the genre of SF. In the category of thrillers, for instance, you've got the same division. On one side, these fairly generic writers content to churn out pulpish book after another about spies, war and conspiracies. On the other, these authors who take great pain into researching the hardware, the politics, the procedures. Ludlum, Follett and Le Carre versus Clancy, Coonts and Coyle.

Patrick Robinson made a certain splash in the thriller audience last year with the release of Nimitz Class, a novel that begins with the nuclear vaporization of a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier.

In my previous review of Nimitz Class, ("starts promisingly enough... a few characters are efficiently set up... then the novel goes awry... goes on an unexpected direction... then on another tangent... very anticlimactic... unconvincing romantic thread... odd bits of exposition in dialogue... barely worth a library loan. In paperback.") I was disappointed by the lack of plotting skill, the laughable romance and the useless detours. The faults were made worse by what is unarguably a fairly strong first third.

Kilo Class is more even, but overall a weaker entry than its predecessor. The plot is of a laughable simplicity: China has bought ten submarines from Russia. The United States doesn't want China to receive these subs, so they do everything they can to destroy them.

Gimmicky; given that two subs are already in safe haven at the beginning of the novel and that this is pretty much everything the good ole' USA will tolerate, you can bet that the novel won't stop until most of the submarines are destroyed.

Most of Kilo Class, then, is like watching one (or several) car (or sub) accident happening. These dastardly americans hatch their plot, then send their best elements to execute them. Most of the time, they succeed. Since Robinson is a "hard-thriller" writer, he lays on the details pretty thick. We're not only told that SEALs have blown up a submarine, but we also get fully fifty pages of preparations plus a twenty-page investigation by the bad guys. The result is almost interminable.

Unlike Nimitz Class, Kilo Class becomes more focused as the story evolves, and while most readers will find themselves asking why they're reading the first half of the book, the last hundred pages are a lot more fun. But it's an uphill battle until then.

Robinson's weak characterisation (don't plan on making any friends in this book) and suspicious plotting (what was it with the Kerguelen Islands?) make things difficult for anyone else but a dedicated techno-thriller buff. Fortunately, bits and pieces of interest spice up the going, like a tremendously exciting description of three submarines' demise.

Of a most serious nature is the ludicrousness of the main premise. The United States risking war, attacking enemy ships under no clear and present threat? I don't think so, and the afterword didn't convince me.

Summing up: Mixed reactions toward Kilo Class. It's definitely not worth the $35.50C. for the hardcover. In fact, I'm not even sure it's worth a library loan. Nimitz Class fans might want to read it to find out what happened to Bill Baldridge (it's a loose sequel to Nimitz Class), but beyond that... Summer 1998 has too many good new books by established techno-thriller authors (Bond, Brown, Coonts... even Clancy!) to waste on Kilo Class, a decidedly average entry in the genre.

 

 

Formula One
Bob Judd

Avon, 1989, 374 p., 4.95$ Can., ISBN 0-380-71014-5

Novels being works of imagination, it's surprising to find out that some readers devour them to learn things. Why not grab a non-fiction book instead? Authors are free to imagine whatever they want in any given context: why should any reader trust the author?

This is in many ways a false argument. Compare sitting down for a few hours with a quantum mechanic textbook, or a Greg Egan hard-SF novel. The choice is pretty easy to make. Fiction involves the reader. Sure, it's less rigorous, but the basic elements still come through, especially when dealing with non-tangible subjects: someone who wants to know about the camaraderie and competition between fighter pilots will more easily grasp it reading a Stephen Coonts novel than a non-fiction account.

As for trust, it has a lot to do with an undefinable authenticity in the text itself, added to the author's credentials. While Arthur Hailey has never been an airport or hotel manager, his novels Airport and Hotel (among other "educative" thrillers) have mesmerized whole beachfuls of readers. Hailey has acquired a reputation for research; Coonts is a former aircraft pilot. Both are known for getting their facts right.

Which brings us to Bob Judd, who brings us in turn in the fast-paced world of Formula One racing for his debut thriller Formula One. With fast cars, loose women, big money and high stakes, the world of Grand Prix racing seems a natural background for any thriller. Formula One takes full advantage of its setting.

Ace Formula One driver Forrest Evers has problems. After three disastrous races, he has abandoned racing. Now, in the opening pages of the novel, he watches as the second driver of his team kills himself in a stupid 200mph accident. Soon afterward, Evers is back behind the wheel with only one idea: Find out who killed his friend and who's trying to kill him again.

Many thrillers boast intriguing promises but fail on delivery. Not so here. Judd writes like a racer going for the pole position. Evers' first-person narration is immediately gripping and carries the novel through like few thrillers read recently.

Even better, we readers get a first-class ticket to the world of F1 racing. The jargon, the mechanics, the shady dealings, the political nature of the game are all explained in painless terms. Best of all, Formula One stays with its subject most of the time. It's not a coincidence if the novel falters around the three-quarter mark, where the protagonist stops being a driver and behaves more like an amateur secret agent. Soon afterward, Evers and the novel are back where they belong--behind the wheel. The climax is memorably written.

What's more, you will enjoy learning about F1 racing here. The details are well-mixed with the action, and seldom feel like exposition lumps. Judd acquires his credibility not by past novels or by an author blurb, but by being very, very good at what he does. It's a challenge to pull off a first-person narration by someone who's obviously in a technical field, but Judd achieves it magnificently.

There's plenty to like in Formula One: The writing is delicious, the protagonist is likable, the gallery of supporting characters is sharply drawn, the technical details are right and the plot moves. You're unlikely to read a better thriller soon.

[July 1998: Just discovered that Formula One is the first of four (so far) Forrest Evers thrillers. I'm unsure to read further, lest inferior sequels taint my memories of the original.]

 

 

Triad: Three Complete Science-Fiction Novels by A.E. van Vogt
A.E. van Vogt

(Simon & Schuster/SFBC Edition, 527 pages, date info incomplete but novels written 1939 to 1950.)

Tonight, ladies, gentlemen and extraterrestrials from Cylonak, we are going to delve deep into the archives of Science Fiction to dredge back a forgotten masterpiece, or three for that matter. At a time where men were men and women were irrelevant... at a time where it was plausible to postulate non-Aristolean logic without howling with laughter... at a time where you could have spacemen waving vibrators around without having your book banned... at a time where SF fans perceived themselves as being persecuted and hunted down like rabid dogs... lived an author named A.E. van Vogt.

A curious fellow, this Arthur Elton van Vogt. Born in Canada in 1912, emigrated in the United States in 1944, he had by that time established himself as one of Science-Fiction's giants. He specialized in grandiose tales of space-opera, of supermen, of monsters and empires. He never made too much sense, but he wrote with such intensity that few were left unimpressed. Today, we will see three of his finest novels, brought together in one handy package unimaginatively called Triad.

van Vogt's first novel was Slan, a classical wish-fulfilment fantasy starring a superhuman boy, a princess, an evil empire and a book-long chase. It was enormously popular among SF audience, who identified with the persecuted protagonist. Slans being superior humans, the novel was the basis of a fannish rallying cry: Fans are Slans!

As for the novel itself, we can already see in Slan the distinguishing characteristics of the latter van Vogt: Endlessly surprising twists and counter-twists of plot, often brought up without rhyme, reason or latter accountability. It is never too clear whether van Vogt has a fantastically complicated outline, or is making it up as he goes along. Modern readers will find Slan interesting in a certain naïve way, as if the sheer chutzpah of van Vogt can carry the novel through. But modern readers will most likely see in Slan the blueprint for more than fifty years of wish-fulfilment novels.

With The voyage of the Space Beagle, modern readers will experience virulent déjà-vu reactions. Not only does the Space Beagle function eerily like the "Star Trek" paradigm, but a sequence from the novel contains the genesis of the movie ALIEN. (van Vogt sued, and settled out of court for $50,000, says the Encyclopedia of Science-Fiction)

The Voyage of the Space Beagle is a collection of mostly enjoyable short tales describing the adventures of a space ship on a deep exploration tour. Surprisingly, the human squabbling and political infighting are more interesting than some of the aliens. The hero is likable, the plot twists are numerous and the aliens are imaginatively created. It reads like STAR TREK on acid. Creaky, musty fun.

The World of Null-A has an interesting MacGuffin: There are other modes of thought than Aristolean, Newtonian and Euclidean logic. Nothing interesting is done with this premise, but the ever-exciting plot has a twist every five pages and quickly buries its incoherencies under a cloud of plots, counterplots and counter-counterplots. Again, you never quite know if van Vogt has an incredible outline, or he's just making it as he goes along. No matter; even despite all its numerous faults and its increasingly hilarious creakiness, The World of Null-A manages to entertain.

If Triad teaches us something, it's that SF has certainly grown up. No author could now afford to publish novels as ill-conceived as van Vogt's. On the other hand, it's unclear if today's fiction has the same sense of fun that's present in van Vogt. It's also a matter of debate as to which kind of fiction will read better among non-literary readers a half-century from now.

In the meantime, Triad contains the essential van Vogt. A worthwhile buy if you can find it in used bookstores, along with a copy of his other major novel, The Weapon Shops of Isher.

 

 

Red Dragon
and
The Silence of the Lambs
Thomas Harris

They took away the student's notebook when he entered the prison.

"You can't be serious!" he protested "he can't be that dangerous!"

"Amical Lecteur is a sick man" replied the orderly responsible for the student's well-being. "He is the most dangerous reader you will ever meet. Always remember that."

They went down the stairs toward the maximum-security wing of the prison.

"A few months ago, one of our nurses forgot a copy of The Bridges of Madison County near him. He read it in less than an hour, called it a pretty ordinary story about bad photography and cardboard characters. His pulse never went above seventy."

"Gee."

"We took away your notebook because you had written something in it. Lecteur will go frantic in the presence of reading material. We have restrained him, but you never know."

They approached the last cell of the corridor. A chair had been placed in the middle of the corridor, facing the bars of the cell.

The orderly checked one last time and retreated, leaving the student with Lecteur. The student could only see the outline of the prisoner in his darkened cell.

"Doctor Lecteur? I'm here-"

"I know." He advanced, and even despite the darkness of his cell, the student could see the heavy blindfold that had been placed upon Lecteur's eyes. "-they might have tried to make me blind, but not stupid."

The student gulped. "I'm here to ask you about-"

"The two serial-killer thrillers by Thomas Harris. Red Dragon and The Silence of the Lambs. Am I correct?"

"Yes- Yes, sir."

"Did you know that since 1977, Harris has only published three novels? All of them have been made in fairly successful movies. The Silence of the Lambs even won a Best Picture Academy Award-"

"Yes. Were you aware of the movies when you read the book?"

"Aware yes. I even saw parts of that movie, but never all of it."

"Did it help?"

"Curiously, seeing only disconnected parts of the movie probably set the tone, characterisation and overall atmosphere of the book while leaving most of the plot surprises intact. Then again, given the publicity surrounding The Silence of the Lambs, you don't even have to have seen the movie."

"What about MANHUNTER, the adaptation of Red Dragon?"

"I knew it existed. That is all."

The student paused, thinking about his next questions.

"What did you think of the books?"

"Why is it important to you?"

"Why is that important to you?"

"You never learned never to answer a question by a question?"

"Who told you that?"

Silence.

"They're both fairly good crime thrillers" finally says Lecteur. "You've got to realize, though, that both novels have basically the same premise."

"Oh?"

"In both, you've got a protagonist asking the advice of this really sadistic psychopath, Hannibal Lecter, to catch a serial killer. In both cases, he's able to do it and make life miserable for the policeperson sent to interrogate him."

"Much like our discussion, then."

"Do you have to point out the obvious?"

"Sorry."

[Pause] "In both case, the result is an tense novel. The similarity of the plots even help, since Harris does it better the second time around."

"How?"

"First off, Clarice Starling from The Silence of the lambs is a stronger, more interesting character than Will Graham from Red Dragon. The same also holds true for the serial killers, although both are portrayed as wussies. I guess this is to show off Harris' centrepiece, which is Hannibal Lecter."

"He's chilling?"

"Utterly. Brains combined with complete evilness. A very memorable villain. The damning thing is that he's also endlessly charming. Just as you think he's a pretty likable fellow, well..."

"Are the books very violent?"

"Somewhat. They stay in the norm for crime thrillers."

"So, which is the better book?"

"Silence of the Lambs, without a doubt. Even though it's a remake of the previous volume, readers having read Red Dragon first should read the sequel. The reverse isn't necessarily true, though, as Silence of the Lambs greatly improves on the predecessor. Think of it as a computer game remade five years after the original, with better graphics and gameplay."

"Strange analogy."

"Yet the only one that fits."

"You recommend The Silence of the Lambs?"

"Yes."

"Thank you sir. I think-"

"Don't leave me like this! Give me a book! A baseball program! A cereal box! Anything to read!"

The orderly rushed to the cell, electric prod in hand. As Lecteur became even more frantic, the orderly silenced him with flashes of blue-white electricity. Lecteur retreated in his cell.

"Sorry about that, sir." said the orderly. "He gets violent from time to time."

"At least he doesn't kill people."

"Sometime, we almost think it would be better that way."

 

 

QUICK VIEWS

A few more notable books read this month:

Stephen King fans already know that the man can write stories. In Different Seasons, King shows that he doesn't require horrific elements to enthral readers. This fairly long (507 pages) book contains four separate stories; only one explicitly contains supernatural elements. It's ironic to notice that the two best film adaptations of King's work (THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION and STAND BY ME) were taken from Different Seasons (APT PUPIL is coming out later this year) Of the four stories, "Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption" is a delightful story, possibly the best King has even written. "The Body" has a nostalgic charm that's hard to resist. On the downside, "Apt Pupil" goes on for fifty pages more that would have been adequate, and "The Breathing Method" is more interesting for storytelling elements only tangentially related to the main plot. Still; strongly recommended.

Hard Fall, by Ridley Pearson, is a better-than-average cat-and-mouse thriller between a terrorist specializing in airplane bombings and an FBI agent with a personal score to settle. Fortunately, the procedural elements of the tale are intricate and fascinating. Troubled relationships also add interest in this tale, already strong in character development. Finally, the ending is suitably hair-raising, with a satisfying epilogue. Fairly well-written, Hard Fall will reward everyone who falls for its strangely attractive black/green cover.

James P. Hogan fans (and non-fans) already know that he's not a very accomplished stylist. They might have a surprise with Realtime Interrupt, which is easily his best book yet. A tale of virtual realities that brings back memories of quasi-Dick-ian paranoia, Realtime Interrupt also takes the time to mull over various aspects of Artificial Intelligence. Corporate infighting is mixed up with mature romance and the result is slow to revv up, but worth the wait. It's a shame that most of the first half of the book is fairly obvious to even the average reader; the last third gets better as it goes on. The climax is vivid. Readers disappointed by Hogan in various outings might want to check this one out.

I was bored stiff by Earthling (Tony Daniel), which is possibly the most boring novel imaginable about a robot digging holes in the Earth. It starts off well enough, but soon spends most of its time in a very ordinary post-apocalyptic future. The style is soporific, and the (very) few interesting scenes cannot even begin to make up for the lack of empathy toward the characters. Avoid.

The problem with well-known books is that after a while, their reputation begins to exceed their qualities. Such is the case with Interview with the Vampire, (by Gothic Mistress Anne Rice) which is far from being as interesting as I thought I would be. Even given that I'm not the target audience for this homoerotic tale of vampiric lust and bloodsucking existentialism, this novel was far too long and patchy to sustain my interest. My sister assures me that the subsequent volumes are more interesting, but frankly I'm not putting them in my reading stack any time soon.

At the other end of the thrilling spectrum, you've got uber-realist, hyper-technological, simply-written Hard Drive (David Pogue), that's so much more enjoyable (despite more than a few problems) that it's frightening. Pogue's tale about a computer virus gone mad almost smacks of Crichtonism, but is more than compensated by very well-defined characters, and a sense that the authors has at least a grasp of the underlying technical issues. (The ridiculous emphasis on the Macintosh is almost hilarious, and the InterNet [sic] seems so mysterious!) The threat is overdone to impress the non-technical audience, but the quieter, more "intellectual" moments are worth it. Call me conventionally sentimental, but the romance is predictable yet charming. Good, fun, clean beach reading.