Author: Christian Sauvé

  • The Long Kiss Goodnight (1996)

    The Long Kiss Goodnight (1996)

    (On TV, March 1999) The biggest problem of this film is that it’s a quasi-parody of action movie clichés (including the infamous outrun-the-explosion idiocy) that takes itself seriously. I hesitate to place the blame on Geena Davis and Samuel L. Jackson (though Davis plays it so that “Charlie” is actually less interesting/attractive than “Samantha”) so scriptwriter Shane (Lethal Weapon) Black deserves all complaints. Still, there are a few good action sequences… but don’t be surprised to find yourself wishing for a more focused film from the rather good basic premise.

  • aol.com, Kara Swisher

    Random House Times Business, 1998, 333 pages, C$35.00 hc, ISBN 0-8129-2896-2

    As an experienced computer user (I started in 1983 with the Commodore 64, graduated to the IBM PC five years later, went on the Internet in 1993, got a Comp.Sci. degree and never looked back), I’m the type of person who finds inner peace and contentment in poking around the Machine itself rather than to be simply contented with using it for other purposes. My computers are open more than half the time, my Operating Systems are customized, my head is full of intricate procedures to coax the last possible unit of performance from my system… I must face the blight of being a nerd, someone as interested in How It Works than What It Does.

    I’m not the type of user that America Online wants.

    This online service has made its fame and fortune by grasping what most technically-oriented companies were slow in understanding: The average users don’t care about technology. They want the benefits without the hassles. They want everything to be as simple as possible. And, by most standards, AOL has delivered what users wanted, opening the Internet to hordes of users without the kind of hard-won civility that comes from accessing something after a considerable amount of effort.

    For all of these reasons, I don’t like America Online. They could disappear tomorrow with nary a qualm from me. But it’s not essential to like AOL to like aol.com.

    This “biography” of America Online begins at the very beginning, with the foundation of a company in the early eighties by an entrepreneur with too many ideas and too little common sense: Bill Von Meister. After an extended limbo where the company repeatedly changed names and incarnations, AOL finally hit it big in 1993, with more than 500,000 users. But the drama wasn’t over: The following five years would find AOL struggling with growing pains, the arrival of the Internet, a more techno-savvy audience, a massive nineteen-hour shutdown and a huge commercial battle with Microsoft. Every year, another crisis seemed to engulf the online service, which has already been declared dead more time than it can recall. But AOL has always survived-for better or worse.

    Wall Street Journal reporter Kara Swisher brings this whole story to life in aol.com, meticulously chronicling the history of AOL up to the beginning of 1998. Despite Swisher’s collaboration with American Online for research -she was reportedly granted unprecedented access to the company for more than a year-, the result is sharply critical of some of AOL’s biggest blunders. She does know her material, even if the spin she puts on a few elements (like James Exon) tends to be grating to seasoned online veterans.

    Though the book tends to concentrate on anecdotes rather than analysis, the writing is easy to follow and fun to read. The incessant crises that rocked AOL during most of its existence make for good drama and Swisher doesn’t have to dig deep to find fertile material for her book.

    The organization of the book is also irreproachable, at the exception of two chapters at the end, both detailing AOL’s battles with the American government’s efforts to censor the Internet. These two chapters are unexplainably split and offer repeated information, though their payoff is sweet: The diskette used to relay the Supreme Court’s decision overturning the government’s Communication Decency Act from the judges to the Internet was one of the ubiquitous AOL diskettes distributed across the country!

    Despite all its virtues, aol.com couldn’t manage to make me like America Online, but certainly convinced me to respect it. The Little Online Service That Could should, by all rational standards, be dead now. But it endured and the story of its success is well-told in aol.com.

  • Lock, Stock And Two Smoking Barrels (1998)

    Lock, Stock And Two Smoking Barrels (1998)

    (In theaters, March 1999) This film not only has one of the best titles of the year, but will probably also stand out on my year’s end list as having one of the most convoluted plot I’ve seen recently. It starts out with a rigged poker game and ends up as one riotously funny crime comedy. Bodies pile up like cordwood, but the audience never stops laughing. It’s unfortunate that the thick English accents often distract from the plot (though it’s far worse at the beginning), so the rumors of a Tom-Cruise-produced American remake don’t disturb me as much as they should. While it is true that the characters might have been fleshed-out a bit more -probably beginning by reducing their numbers from the start-, Lock, Stock And Two Smoking Barrels is directed with great flair and benefits from a good soundtrack. (The inclusion of “Payback” is appropriate, given that it shares at least an attitude with the Mel Gibson vehicle.) Aptly described as a meeting between Trainspotting and Pulp Fiction, this film is worth your time.

    (Second viewing, On DVD, October 2001) Revisiting this film after two years and director Guy Richie’s second feature –Snatch– is a lot like a short visit to a few rowdy friends. Yes, the film holds up quite well to another viewing. Granted, Snatch is a more polished film and a cooler piece of cinema, but you won’t feel cheated by Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. The directing, editing and complex storyline will manage to astonish you again. The DVD adds the essential subtitles, hurrah! A great crime comedy. You know you want to see it another time.

  • Interview with the Vampire: The Vampire Chronicles (1994)

    Interview with the Vampire: The Vampire Chronicles (1994)

    (On TV, March 1999) What happens when you adapt an original, but murderously slow seventies gothic romance/horror novel to the cinema of the nineties? Something really enjoyable, actually. The comatic prose of the novel is gone, so we’re free to enjoy the relatively fun story of Anne Rice’s vampires. Good production values (influenced by fire fetishism), a high giggle factor and a better-than-average script make this a relatively worthwhile moment to spend. Far more so than reading the novel.

  • EdTV (1999)

    EdTV (1999)

    (In theaters, March 1999) Much better than its source material, the French-Canadian film Louis 19. Professional direction (by Ron Howard), competent actors (McConaughey! Landau! Harrelson! Hurley! Hopper!) and a sharp script (until the third act, that is…) make this a pretty slick, kind of enjoyable comedy. Obvious parallels exist between EdTV and The Truman Show, but I believe that if The Truman Show had both the merits and handicaps of brilliance, EdTV might be the most enjoyable of both films. (In any case, the show/audience relationship is best presented in EdTV.) It’s worth a look. If anyone in HollywoodLand wants an idea for EdTV 2, here’s one: Why not replace Ed with someone who’s really smart who really understands from the start the position he’s in?

  • Cruel Intentions (1999)

    Cruel Intentions (1999)

    (In theaters, March 1999) This film isn’t very good, but it’s much more entertaining than what one might expect. A hilariously “modern” adaptation of French 18th century novel Les Liaisons Dangereuses, Cruel Intentions benefits from the strength of the original material to stand heads and shoulders above the other rather insipid “teen romance” movies. The film isn’t believable as itself, but acquires an extra dimension when you consider the various tweaks and changes they’ve made to take an old novel and present it to modern audiences. (Eg; Sebastian’s money-driven charm is implausible in itself, but entirely believable when considering the original aristocratic character.) Surprisingly tame for its raunchy potential, it manages a few good moments—like the “Bittersweet Symphony” ending. While Cruel Intentions was hailed as “not a good date movie”, I must report that my two straight-laced female companions did like the film.

  • Murder in the Solid State, Wil McCarthy

    Tor, 1996 (1998 reprint), 277 pages, C$7.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-812-55392-6

    Good examples of Science-Fiction crossed with Crime Fiction are nearly as numerous as crossovers between SF and Thrillers. Many SF authors have written a few mystery novels (Isaac Asimov, Stephen R. Donaldson, etc…) and for some reason, (solidarity among the ghettoes?) readers of SF are often fans of crime fiction. The basic plotline of thrillers, (One man confronting powerful forces conspiring against him!) on the other hand, has always been a natural way to develop the bigger-than nature plots of most grandiose SF. Murder in the Solid State will suck you in with a murder mystery, but ultimately evolves in your basic near-future conspiracy thriller.

    It all begins, appropriately enough, at a nanotechnology scientific conference. David Sanger is a young physicist with things to prove to the world. Shortly after the beginning of the conference, he finds himself arguing against a rather unpleasant older scientist widely despised by his peers. Heated words eventually lead to sharp weapons and before long David is sword-fighting (!) against his nemesis. His martial arts training takes over and he wins the fight, but finds himself in custody the following morning as the older scientist is murdered during the night… A hundred pages in the novel, David’s most trusted friends turn against him and he finds himself tangled in something much bigger than just a murder.

    In time, the “Solid State” of the title assumes its full political importance and it’s a bit of a surprise to find us cleverly slipped a message about the dangerous implications of comfortable safety. Like many pure-SF writers, McCarthy espouses libertarian (or at least vaguely anti-government) tendencies but exhibits them more carefully than most of his peers.

    One of the cover blurbs is James Patrick Kelly saying “Think ‘Hitchcock meets Heinlein’” and the comparison is apt. The narrative is lean and rarely pauses for its breath. The future technology is described plausibly, with some attention for the social impact of said technology. The protagonist is suitably sympathetic, with the result that we keep on rooting for him even as he is forced to commit unpleasant acts. The narration is suitably paced and the reader’s interest rarely flags.

    But if Murder in the Solid State is a perfectly competent thriller with the added interest of being peppered with solid nanotechnological details, it’s also obvious that it’s a bit pedestrian, a bit… well… ordinary. After the whirlwind first hundred pages, the novels comfortably settles down in a classical thriller structure, and it doesn’t take a lot of perspicacity to intuit that the protagonist is eventually going to confront the Bad Guy.

    But it doesn’t really matter, because even if not every book can be a classic, we can always use another good competent SF adventure. And Murder in the Solid State more than proves that Wil McCarthy is an author worth examining. Who knows what else he’ll come up with next?

  • Crimson Tide (1995)

    Crimson Tide (1995)

    (On TV, March 1999) Regular readers of these reviews already know that I’m always in the market for a good techno-thriller, so it’s no surprise if I liked Crimson Tide as much as I did. A good story (from submarine thriller novelist Richard P. Hendrick) and a fine script, plus the always-excellent Denzel Washington and Gene Hackman make this a tense, solid underwater suspense. Obviously a guy’s type of movie (was there even one female after the first ten minutes?), but a good one. Worth a rental on video.

  • The Corruptor (1999)

    The Corruptor (1999)

    (In theaters, March 1999) Despite the frosty critical consensus, I thought that this was a pretty darn fine B-series action movie. Of course, I’m almost a card-carrying fan of both Chow-Yun Fat and “Marky” Mark Wahlberg -for the music and the acting-, so I’m not exactly objective in the matter. Still, it has a crunchy story, with a few good action scenes (a car chase in which pedestrians get wounded! Imagine that!) and a tone reminiscent to Fat’s previous Hong Kong movies. On the other hand, I must admit that the action scenes aren’t very well directed, the script could be improved and the final battle isn’t very exciting. Still, it’s a good popcorn film if you’re in the mood for some action.

  • 8MM (1999)

    8MM (1999)

    (In theaters, March 1999) I couldn’t make it to the end of this film for uncontrollable reasons (no, I’m not that squeamish: I had a severe headache even before the movie started and my physical condition went downhill after that…), but I did like what I saw. Nicolas Cage is always decent, and the script efficiently goes through the motion. I did miss most of the extended third act, (I left shortly after Cage used a screwdriver on a Machine) so reports of a drawn-out conclusion might or might not be true.

  • Proteus Manifest, Charles Sheffield

    Guild American Books, 1989, 406 pages, C$15.00 hc, ISBN Unavailable

    Ever since the “New Wave” pseudo-revolution of the sixties, a segment of Science-Fiction has been quite content to push the boundaries of literary achievement at the expense of the story. Sometimes is works (Neuromancer), but second-hand bookstores across the nation are packed with the failures of the experiment. Arguably, the final result is a stronger, more mature and better-written Science-Fiction. But ordinary readers can’t be blamed if they get the impression that a lot of the simple storytelling fun has gone out of today’s SF. Even worse; they tend to accept this as a matter of fact, and so the impression that Written SF Can’t Be Fun Any More If It Want To Be Serious subconsciously endures.

    That’s why it’s such a breath of fresh air, from time to time, to re-discover solid works of SF that unashamedly bring back the simple joy of reading. It’s not fancy to be conventional, but most of the time it works.

    Charles Sheffield will never be misidentified as one of the genre’s greatest stylists. A scientist by trade, Sheffield has turned to Science-Fiction late in life, producing works heavily inspired by the hard sciences, with only a perfunctory interest in characters.

    His first novel was Sight of Proteus (1978), a short tale about a future Earth modified by the widespread use of nonsurgical techniques to modify the human body. These can be as innocuous as simple plastic modification or as fundamental as changing sex, etc… The hero of the tale is Behrooz Wulf (ie; Bey Wolf), a top investigator at the agency charged with protecting the Earth from illegal and dangerous modifications. It all begins as they suspect a famous scientist of forbidden experiments…

    Sight of Proteus is, to be frank, a bit silly. Sheffield’s body-shaping technology is a mix between fancy machines and almost wishful biofeedback mechanisms. Given that the real-world has invented nanotechnology since Sheffield’s novel, let’s just say that his techno-babble isn’t as fresh or convincing as it was then even if the end results are more believable. The world-building is also slightly suspicious; one would expect more of scientific progress if, after all, they’re able to shape bodies literally at will.

    But even despite these quibbles, Sight of Proteus is fun. The writing is marvelously limpid, up to a point where one wonders how come most novels aren’t as accessible, imaginative and entertaining as this one.

    Things get less pleasant by the end, as our protagonists go an Nivenesque trip through the solar system and the story doesn’t conclude as much as is dropped almost in mid-flight.

    Proteus Manifest is one of the Science-Fiction Book Club’s own omnibus editions, thus cleverly combining two book published at ten year’s interval under a same cover. Unfortunately, a universe based on the body-changing premise and a protagonist with the same name are about the only things the two novels have in common: There are few linkages with the events of the first novel, and Sheffield’s prose has evolved significantly in the decade dividing Sight of Proteus with Proteus Unbound (1989).

    Even the plot is bigger, as Behrooz Wulf is asked to solve disquieting form-changing equipment failures in the Outer Solar System. At the same time, he’s plagued with maddening hallucinations and a lost love. Oh, and there’s also a rebel colony hidden inside the asteroid belt. Could all of these things possibly be linked?

    The fun of the first volume carries through the second book, which is more satisfying than the first (though the conclusion is almost as abrupt). Good ideas, sharp writing, nice plotting and an effortless mastery of hard sciences; it’s good enough to compare with Niven and Clarke, as well as make one wonder why they don’t write that kind of SF any more.

    Though Proteus Manifest is at time frustrating and not exactly completely successful, it is so wonderfully imaginative and clearly written that it’s well-worth picking up in used bookstores. Who said that the New Wave had killed old-fashioned Hard SF?

  • The Art of War, Sun Tzu (translated by Ralph D. Sawyer)

    Barnes & Noble Books, 1994, 375 pages, C$10.99 hc, ISBN 1-56619-297-8

    There are times when it’s more appropriate for a reviewer to tell you the best way to enjoy a book rather than if it’s good or not.

    With Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, one can comfortably assume even before cracking the spine of the book that it’s great: Arguably written more than two thousand years ago by one of China’s best tactician, The Art of War has been studied repeatedly in the Western world during the last century, from military academies to corporate boardrooms. Some will argue that The Art of War is a military treatise; others will say that it’s a political/social manual, or even a book of philosophical contemplations. It’s certainly not obvious with statements like “In order await the disordered; in tranquillity await the clamorous. This is the way to control the mind.”

    The Art of War, even in translation, has long passed into the public domain. You can download several translations from the Internet. Why, then, buy a 11$ book about it? To understand it better, probably.

    Ralph D. Sawyer is, putting it mildly, a pretty knowledgeable man. The Art of War itself fits in less than a hundred pages. The remainder of Sawyer’s book is political and military context, commentary, discussion of newly-found versions and more than a hundred pages of notes. (!)

    Perhaps more significantly, Sawyer has taken the time to write a new translation of The Art of War. If we compare it to the classical public-domain “Giles” translation (1910), it certainly has more flavour than the classical version. Boring, artless statements like “The art of war is of vital importance to the State. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence it is a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected.” (Giles) suddenly become snappy “Warfare is the greatest affair of state, the basis of life and death, the Way to survival or extinction. It must be thoroughly pondered and analyzed.” (Sawyer).

    But even with the modern, literary translation, The Art of War is by nature not an easy book to read. Or rather, it is easy to read, but not easy to grasp; it is to be read as slowly as possible.

    One thing that might help is to discuss the book with a group. An ex-colleague of mine, Eleanor Glor, holds monthly meetings about Innovation in the Public Sector called “The Innovation Salon”. The subject matter for February 1999 was a discussion of The Art of War, as moderated by David Jones, a enthusiast of Sun Tzu’s book.

    I can’t think of a better way to understand Sun Tzu; the discussion was literate, lively, wide-ranging and thought-provoking. I had prepared by reading The Art of War twice, without looking at the commentary and as a matter of fact, David Jones warned us that one should read Sun Tzu and try to form a good opinion of him well before trying to read any commentary.

    A good example is, I feel, the debate about the military value of Sun Tzu. Some commentators will try to tell you that The Art of War has less to do with warfare than pure philosophy. I happen to disagree (David Jones’s arguments failed to sway me.) but that assumption is crucial for many commentaries, who are sometimes radically oriented on this simple opinion of the text. (Similarly, some translations are skewed toward the militarist of the non-militarist approach; could it be a coincidence that my translation is though the pen of a scholar from the militarist school?)

    Even so, do not get the impression that I’m suddenly a wide-eyed convert to the Ancient Wisdom of the Orient; I think that attempts to reconcile The Art of War with modern life are interesting but misguided. At the same time, a careful reading of Sun Tzu will provide many rather good aphorisms and enough quotable material to impress both colleagues and friends. It’s worth repeating, however, that discussion is almost invariably a far better way to learn to appreciate Sun Tzu; why not try an impromptu reading group?

  • The Guns of the South, Harry Turtledove

    Del Rey, 1992 (1997 reprint), 517 pages, C$16.95 tpb, ISBN 0-345-41366-0

    I have traditionally been wary of associating alternate histories with Science-Fiction, perhaps because so much of it tends to be anecdotal, based on whether a bullet went “zang” instead of “zing”. Alternate histories -or at least in the usual anthologies- is usually far more akin to political history (Alternate Presidents) or obvious exercises in either obvious hand-wringing (“Hitler wins war!”) or wish-fulfillment (“Hey! Gandhi with a bazooka!”).

    Nevertheless, there is a good argument for alternate-histories-as- science-fiction. For one thing, it’s a mode of historical literature based on the real definition of Speculative-Fiction (“What if?”) For another, a good author can use alternate history as a mean to explore technological changes on a society, which places us squarely back into SF.

    The Guns of the South is the first book I’ve seen that has “Alternate History” as category on its spine. It’s also one of the finest examples of science-fiction that I’ve read recently, and this for two factors:

    The first is the obvious usage of an SF device as inherent to the plot. The novel begins in January 1864, during the American Civil War. Things are not rosy for the Confederate forces; the Yankees are able to out-produce them and General Lee is aware of the precarious state of his forces. But a tall man with a strange accent arrives in camp to show a new weapon. He calls it an AK-47.

    This, of course, is a time-traveler. He says he’s willing to furnish the South with as many weapons as they may want, for a quasi-ridiculous price. It doesn’t take long for the Confederates to accept the offer and equip their men with these fancy new “repeaters”. The rest is alternate history. Able to literally outgun the North, the Confederate smash into Washington and force a peace on their terms. Barely 150 pages in the novel, we see the beginning of the new C.S.A.

    What follows is a difficult peace for both our protagonists: General Lee at the top of the changes, and a schoolteacher name Nate Caudell as the smarter-than-average citizen’s viewpoint.

    The second element that brings me to associate The Guns of the South to science-fiction is the novel’s examination of technological change on society. The men from the future simply want the South to win for racist reasons. But by introducing themselves and their technologies in the 1860s, they themselves have an effect on the affairs of the C.S.A. Soon, Lee himself begins to disagree with his benefactors…

    The Guns of the South gains most of its point, not through its meticulous research, but from the ease with which it can be read. As a French-Canadian, I consider myself as being as ill-informed about the Civil War as it is possible to be; yet, Turtledove does a splendid job to produce a perfectly entertaining novel. Good characters and a fast-moving narrative aren’t the least of the novel’s virtues.

    I do have an objection to make, though, in that we never learn quite enough about the time traveler’s means in their original time period. As so-called SF, The Guns of the South is more complacent in using time-traveling as an easy justification than a seriously thought-out device (otherwise, the time-travelers could have simply killed Lincoln, Grant and nuked Washington to ensure easy victory without the fuss.)

    But these quibbles are irrelevant when considered against the goal of Turtledove’s effort. There are many adjectives to use when praising The Guns of the South, but “fascinating” seems like a good one to end with. With this novel, Harry Turtledove has fashioned a little classic of the sub-genre. It’s a book that holds the interest by its erudition, but also by virtue of action, readability and intellectual interest. And a happy ending. Great stuff.

  • Desperation and The Regulators, Stephen King & Richard Bachman

    Signet, 1997, ???? pages, C$??.?? mmpb, ISBN Various

    Desperation, Stephen King: Signet, 1997, 547 pages, C$9.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-451-18846-2
    The Regulators, Richard Bachman Signet, 1997, 489 pages, C$9.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-451-19101-3

    Any way you look at it, Stephen King is an interesting author. Springing to national fame after two unusually successful movies adapted from his novels (Brian DePalma’s CARRIE and Stanley Kubrick’s THE SHINING), he has reigned over the bestseller lists for more than two decades. While lesser authors might have comfortably rested on their laurels, releasing formula novels every year or so, King is a genuine writer who’s not afraid to take risks. These risks don’t stop at what he write, but also extends at how they’re published. To promote Insomnia in 1994, he travelled through the United States on a motorcycle to do signing in independent bookstores. He agreed to publish The Green Mile in six small instalments, like the serial novels of yore. In 1996, he simultaneously released two novels: One under his name, and the other one as his pseudonymous alter-ego, Richard Bachman (also known as the author of Thinner and The Running Man, among others)

    The experiment doesn’t stop at the simple simultaneous release of two books. Where it gets really interesting is that both novel share their cast of character, the name of the villain and even some common lines. Up to a certain point, one can argue that the events of both novel sport a common history.

    Nevada, 1858: In the middle of nowhere, a small town has sprung up around a mine. The soil isn’t exactly stable, so the company hires Chinese personnel willing to work for almost nothing under horrific conditions. One day, while more than forty men are working underground, the mine caves in. Accident or totally intentional event? In any case, the mine is re-discovered more than a century later, as a blasting uncovers the mine shaft.

    Here, the stories part ways.

    In Stephen King’s Desperation, the action stays in the small mining town of Desperation, Nevada. During the first hundred pages of the novel, various visitors are brought together in the town’s jail by a crazy policeman. Few remain alive in the town, and who knows if the policeman has anything to do with this? For that matter, even the few surviving citizen of Desperation seem ready to swear that the policeman isn’t his usual self…

    In Richard Bachman’s The Regulators, the action stays in Wentworth, Ohio. More particularly, in the suburban picture- perfect Poplar Street. It’s a superb summer afternoon until a paperboy is killed by a shotgun blast fired from a futuristic red van. Before long, half the street’s residents are dead and the other half are waiting for the next devastating attack. It doesn’t help that Poplar Street isn’t in Wentworth any more…

    You can read one or both novels in any order; neither is sequel or sideshow. There are, however, interesting bonuses to be gained from doing what this reviewer did and reading both concurrently, fifty or a hundred pages at a time in both: backstories are fleshed out in one novel but not in another, subtle personality changes take more significance, background details seem more pertinent. The fate of characters isn’t identical, of course. Some survive to both, die in one or die twice.

    As interesting as the concept is, however, one almost wishes that the interplay between both works could have been deeper, even maybe up to an absurdly almost-postmodern point (one character could “know” something learned by the other book’s character, and similar tricks). In any case, the experiment raises interesting questions, and readers should be thankful that King has experimented with this.

    Besides literary curiosity, however, it’s a relief to find out that King has written some of his most “characteristic” novels in years with Desperation and The Regulators.

    Desperation, with its desertic, almost post-apocalyptic locale and its ultimate combat between the forces of good versus an incarnation of evil, is not without bringing back memories of King’s The Stand (though being nowhere near that novel’s power). King’s seemingly-effortless management of a multi-character cast also recalls some of his most successful older novels. On the other hand, it has more than a few lengths, also like King’s previous work. In any case, it’s a change (improvement?) from King’s last three novels, which took a far more intimate psychological approach.

    The Regulators is closer to Bachman’s previous five novels in that there are few lengths and more violent action than King usually puts in his novels. Shorter than Desperation and more classically exciting, The Regulators also marks a radical departure from King’s last few novels, which were becoming more and more sedate. Not exactly the ultimate tale of suburbia terror (the villain simply doesn’t let itself to this goal), The Regulator is nevertheless fast-paced action with a supernatural premise. Bachman’s narration is honed to quasi-perfection; the result is great.

    Both novel also mark a return to two of King’s favourite themes; children (saviours in both, but more ominously so in The Regulators) and writers (heroes in both, but more ominously so in Desperation).

    One flaw shared by both novels is that the opening chapters (creepy in Desperation and action-packed in The Regulator) promise more than is ultimately delivered. While this is not a new problem in horror -where menace is almost always more effective than execution- it seems more disappointing here perhaps because of the interplay between both novel. In The Regulators, it’s a bit difficult to express outright rage at the antagonist, while in Desperation it doesn’t seem quite so threatening in latter stages than in its policeman incarnation.

    In the end, however, Stephen King is having fun and the result is a return to old familiar places. (The second drive-by shooting in The Regulators is almost as merry to read as the degeneration of the villain in Desperation) Either novel is good by itself. Taken together, however, they become special. Maybe not as great as could have been expected, but still worthy enough of the King mark of quality.

    It remains to be seen what else Stephen King plans for us…

  • Storming Heaven, Dale Brown

    Putnam, 1995, 399 pages, C$28.50 hc, ISBN 0-399-13931-1

    It’s always a pleasure to go back to a favourite author, only to discover that his newest novel is as good as his previous efforts.

    Dale Brown is an ex-Air Force pilot who has specialized in far-out aerial techno-thrillers. His writing appeal to me for various reasons; an emphasis on plot, a love of details, a knack at serviceable characters and an eye for the Cool Scene. Contrarily to techno-thriller ubermeister Tom Clancy, Dale Brown’s novel have remained manageably lengthy, and in roughly the same familiar territory.

    Storming Heaven is, at the same time, solidly similar to Brown’s previous novels and an encouraging venture in new directions. Like all Brown novels so far, it’s about war in the air. This time, however, America isn’t sending units to fight far away. This time, the battle is at home.

    After a perfunctory prologue (Summarized: “I say that America’s borders should be more protected!”, “Ha-ha, you crazy old fool, go home!”), the action kicks in high gear as American authorities try to apprehend Henri Cazaux, the world’s most wanted terrorist. Cazaux doesn’t see it that way, of course, and departs in a small plane after killing a good half-dozen Federal Agents. After National Guard fighters units join the battle, Cazaux is cornered and fights back like a mad dog, blowing up a substantial portion of the Los Angeles Airport in the process.

    As everyone licks their wounds, Cazaux realizes that this is how to take revenge on the Country That Abused Him. He quickly hatches a plan to make devastating strikes against the USA’s largest civilian airports…

    Most techno-thrillers remain solidly in the military world, barely according attention to more humdrum civilian concerns. Storming Heaven is an exception, given that it’s solidly built around the world of civilian aviation. As is the norm with the best novels of this type, Brown takes us places we wish we could visit: High-stakes financial boardroom, an air controller’s station, a gigantic plane storage park…

    As for the novel itself, it might not be the best Brown yet, but even an average Dale Brown novel is better than the norm. Perhaps too disjointed (the novel often appears to be a string of big action sequences tied together) to be fully satisfying and too loosely connected to its characters to be involving, Storming Heaven is still interesting enough to sustain our attention.

    Still, the novel has significant shortcomings. Henri Cazaux might be fine even (because) when he’s so over-the-top, but the same can’t be said of his “love interest”, Jo Ann Vegas, who oscillate between victim, sadist, astrologer, punching bag, manipulator, oppressed and genuinely puzzling personality. In a genre so founded on hard facts, it’s puzzling to see the appearance of such a mystical character. She’s the weak link of Storming Heaven. Stylistically, Brown still has a way to go. There has to be a simpler way of saying “The vertical and horizontal antenna sweep indexers of the F-16 ADF’s AN/APG-66 radarscope continued to move, but a small white box had appeared at the upper-left portion of his F-16 Fighter Falcon ADF’s radarscreen.” [P.232] even though I appreciate this level of detail…

    Oh; Storming Heaven links together Brown’s Hammerheads (given Ian Hardcastle’s supporting role) and Chains of Command (with the thinly-veiled references to the Clintons, more acidly Hillary who’s described as “The Steel Magnolia”.) even though only Hammerheads (a substantially better novel) is useful as background material.

    At least Brown doesn’t forget to have fun, as he slips in some barbs about the Clintons (P.352: “’She’s got bigger things on her mind these days… like how to keep her and the President from being indicted.’”) and self-congratulates himself (P.205: “’Ludicrous. This is not some damned Dale Brown novel, this is real-life.’”)

    Not the best Brown novel, but still a darn good one, Storming Heaven should please more fans of the authors, as well as bring in a few new ones.