Reviews

  • Hart’s War, John Katzenbach

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Ballantine, 1999, 551 pages, C$10.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-345-42625-8

    It’s impossible to be a genre fiction reader and not admire John Katzenbach’s audacity when it comes to Hart’s War‘s premise. What if, during World War II, there was a murder investigation set in a prisoner-of-war camp? Can you say “genre blender”? Can you enjoy a story mixing war elements, prison stories and courtroom drama? Of course you can. So buckle up and enjoy the ride.

    Most of Hart’s War is seen through the viewpoint of Tommy Hart, an aviator doing his best to endure the misery of his internment in a German prisoner-of-war camp. That is, until a new prisoner is introduced in the volatile mix; Leo Scott, a black airman from the famed Tuskegee unit. Racial tensions run high and Scott isn’t dumb or meek; he quickly sets himself apart from the other men in the camp through his haughty and aggressive behaviour. So when popular “Trader” Vic is murdered after a long period of acrimony between the two men, Scott is quickly accused of murder. Under the Nazi’s amused stares, the Allied prisoners arrange for a speedy court-martial. But who is unlucky enough to be designated defence lawyer? Why, Tommy Hart, of course. In the absence of qualified lawyers, his stint at Harvard Law School is more than enough to allow everyone to maintain appearances of a fair trial.

    So much for his plans to stay as discreet as possible while waiting for the end of the war: In the absence of anything more worthwhile to do, the trial quickly becomes a lighting rod for the latent tension in the camp. Assisted by expert British legal advice and capable Canadian muscle, Hart himself has to develop fancy survival skills in an environment where murder may be a front for something much more dangerous…

    The beauty of Hart’s War is how it seamlessly plays with elements of three very different genres to form a coherent whole. The book’s characters are plunged in an unusual situation, while their actions are constrained with deliciously complicated obstacles. This, in turn, makes the lines between allies and enemies rather less than definite. There are more than enough surprising twists and turns to keep anyone interested in the story.

    If the above plot summary seems like a crass attempt at throwing genres together to see what sticks, well, that may not be far from the truth. But it would also be ignoring that Katzenbach’s book is a slick and massively entertaining yarn. Among many other virtues, it’s a well-told tale that does justice to its premise and its plotting. Katzenbach may not be a particularly artful scribe, but his utilitarian prose works wonders at driving the story forward. Hart’s War is a page-turner in the best old-school sense of the expression. You may know when you’ll start to read it, but you can only guess at when you’ll want to stop.

    Time and time again, the book takes an unexpected tack. Some of them don’t work (the ending section is overlong and sends what was up to that point a thriller into more straightforward action territory), some of them are a bit silly (Hart takes forever to guess the “true” story behind the murder, even though it’s patently obvious to most readers) and some of them work beyond any reasonable expectation: The contemporary scenes that frame the story are unexpectedly moving even though they’re patently manipulative.

    Yes, a film was adapted from the book. But while I rather like the film, the book is much better. Less blatantly message-driven (the wonderfully acerbic Scott is an inspired character, one whose flaws are integral to the book’s arc), more realistic (Hart’s not a recent arrival like in the film) and considerably deeper when it comes to the details of prison-life, Hart’s War is still worth a detour for those who are familiar with the film adaptation.

    All-around successful thrillers should be celebrated. With a brilliant premise, great execution and straightforward prose, Hart’s War has more than enough to deserve a look from everyone looking for a good story. Heck, it’s almost as if you get three for the price of one.

  • The Silk Code, Paul Levinson

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Tor, 1999, 308 pages, C$8.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-812-56775-7

    One should be lenient about an author’s first novel. The poor writer is just stretching his or her writing muscles without the benefit of latter career experience. Even though editors are there to prevent a first novel from going totally awry, there’s a limit to what they can do to correct amateur structural problems. Latter books are usually conceived with some experience with this whole publishing thing.

    Being a book reader rather than a magazine reader, I’m not terribly familiar with Paul Levinson’s body of short stories. Still, Levinson’s “The Mendelian Lamp Case” was a bright spot in David G. Hartwell’s Year’s Best SF 3 anthology (1998), enough so that I could remember details of its premise -secret biological warfare between the Amish and another shadowy group- even years later. The Silk Code is a direct descendant of that short story, reprising most of it in its first section. But whereas protagonist/investigator Phil D’Amato escaped the short story leaving a few threads dangling, the novel goes deeper in the mystery, first by going back in time and then by telling the rest of the story.

    The first section has problems, but they’re acceptable in the context of a short-story-turned-introduction. The pacing is a touch too rushed, for instance: as the deaths pile up, it feels as if the plot is moving too quickly for its own good. But it’s a rousing good read and a pretty unusual SF piece; what if, under our nose, overlooked “backwards” groups had managed to master what we consider to be high technology? Add to that the appeal of rural Pennsylvania as a fresh SF setting and it’s not hard to see why “The Mendelian Lamp Case” was so lauded. As the first part of a longer work, it’s not nearly as effective, but -who knows- maybe it would lead to better things.

    Those “better things” certainly aren’t the second part of the book, a long detour through 750 AD history to make a point that is succinctly summarized later in the book. As a device to keep readers on the hook for the rest of the adventure, it works more as a roadblock than an interesting segue.

    Things pick up in the third section onward. We’re back in contemporary times as Phil D’Amato is faced with an intriguing mystery as he has to entertain the possibility of Neanderthals living among us. Meanwhile, the occult war hinted at in the first section continues unabated, along with plenty of Amish tricks and weird occurrences. Levinson is a very smart man, and his considerable erudition shows throughout the book by way of digressions, exposition and educated conversations. Some are obvious, most are fascinating and many actually work quite well.

    Which is more than I could say for the novel as a coherent unit. The breakneck pacing of the first section continues unabated and a ridiculous pile of corpses accumulates as the chapters fly by. Worse is the lack of clear focus, as D’Amato goes from one country, one faction, one mysterious character to another and another and yet another. There is a lot of movement, but not much development. The rushed conclusion feels forced, as if plot threads are cut rather than tied together. D’Amato himself seems like a curiously low-key investigator: I suppose that had I read other stories by Levinson, I might have some built-in sympathy for the character. But I haven’t, and so I don’t.

    Then there’s the “Canadian thing”. It’s unfair to criticize a book based on a three-page humorous passage, but there’s a puzzling aside on pages 167-169 where D’Amato has to deal with obstinate Canadian custom officers (“’Will there be Canadian scientists at this seminar? Are you taking in account the contributions that Canadians have made in the area?’”) and praise New York at the expense of Toronto. Maybe this is based on real-life incidents; otherwise, well, it seemed a bit mean. (“What was the law here? Were you even innocent until proved guilty?”) I may have shrugged it off if it hadn’t confirmed a completely bone-headed comment about Canadian culture made by Levinson at Torcon3. Separately, both comments may have been dismissed; together, they indicate someone who ought to know better despite his erudition in other areas.

    While “the Canadian thing” doesn’t amount to much in the overall scheme of things, it might have crystallized a latent disappointment with the way the novel is handled. Despite the fantastic concepts, the new ideas and the grand concepts, I wasn’t particularly bowled over by the overall sweep of the story. Here’s hoping I’m just being a cranky Canadian: Maybe his next novel will be better…

  • Twisted (2004)

    Twisted (2004)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, February 2004) Another year, another Ashley Judd thriller. But whereas such films as Double Jeopardy and High Crimes were formula films with moments of deep stupidity, Twisted is a deeply stupid thriller with moments of pure formula. Here, characters act like twisted puppets of a mad screenwriter who has lived on a diet of Joe Ezterhas exploitation films. Nothing makes real-world sense and people do ominous things simply to plant red herrings. Ironically enough, this “twisted” films ends up having one of the tritest endings in recent memory. Don’t be surprised if you figure out the “twist” minutes or even hours before the supposedly top-notch detective. The exasperating dialogues are obvious and devoid of artfulness or subtlety. The same goes for the acting and, heck, the cinematography: Despite taking place in ultra-photogenic San Francisco, Twisted settles for a dull series of waterfront shots and interminable apartment scenes. If you ever wanted to see a straight-to-video film accidentally released in theatres, look no further.

  • The Perfect Score (2004)

    The Perfect Score (2004)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, February 2004) “It’ll be like The Breakfast Club” says one of the characters at one point, which is highly appropriate given that The Perfect Score often feels like a cross between a typical teen ensemble comedy and a heist film in the Ocean’s Eleven vein. Here, the object of desire is not money or diamonds, but self-esteem and future success in the form of SAT test results. Six different students with their own reasons join up and try to infiltrate the offices where the answers are located. It’s an excuse for a teen comedy, sure, and the “suspense” isn’t as much in whether they’ll get the answers, but in if it’s going to do them any good. (It’s carefully neutered for the parental approval of all; this is no edgy morality tale, oh no) At least the film shines when it comes to the characters; while the characterization may not be all that deep, it’s adequate, and there’s good fun in seeing Scarlett Johanssen run around as a goth girl with a pink wig after her turn in the oh-so-serious Lost In Translation. While Erica Christiansen is as hot as usual with her flawless complexion (but how much CGI was needed for such perfect skin?), it’s Leonardo Nam who steals the show as the stoner narrator “Roy”. There are plenty of technical mistakes (disappearing cameras, lousy computer security, lack of police common-sense) but it’s all in good fun, with a few oddball gags (such as a shot-perfect parody of The Matrix) thrown in for good measure. The usual teen movie stuff, worth a look for brain-free entertainment.

  • La Mystérieuse mademoiselle C. [The Mysterious Miss C] (2002)

    La Mystérieuse mademoiselle C. [The Mysterious Miss C] (2002)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, February 2004) Surprisingly engaging kid’s film, partly about love of reading and the goodness of libraries. (How can you not love a film about that?) There is the usual amount of cheap kiddie pandering, ill-used “hip” kid-speak, dumb character moments and not a lot of emotional depth, but it is, after all, a film for the young ones. As such, it’s still more than good enough to hold on to any adult’s attention. The directing is surprisingly engaging (woo, moving cameras!), and the acting talent is fine. Story-wise, the “beauty and the beast” interludes are interesting, but repetitive as they don’t add much to the film: the title character remains frustratingly distant, molded as she is in a deliberately mysterious role. The DVD is a touch disappointing, offering few special features and, in fact, not even any subtitles.

  • House Of Sand And Fog (2003)

    House Of Sand And Fog (2003)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, February 2004) It doesn’t take a long time, through the leaden cinematography and the ominous performances, to understand that this is not a story that will have a happy ending. As a house becomes a battleground for a desperate young woman (Jennifer Connelly, as willing as ever to sink in an unglamourous role) and a hardened Iranian immigrant (Ben Kingsley, in a masterful performance), the conflict involves more and more victims in the spiral. Forget about antagonists and protagonists; here, everyone is a victim, and that’s never so true than at the end of the film. This emotional demolition derby ends with only one person standing. (Alas, it ends at that moment, with scarcely any nod at the aftermath) This is the stuff “dramas” are made of; it may not be pleasant to watch, but it’s unarguably powerful. The directing is sober, making ample place for the cinematography and the performances. The plot is a sadistic exercise in rock-throwing, so don’t be surprised as some of the more outlandish twists and turns; it’s not playing fair in its pursuing of pure pathos. Not a particularly good choice for entertainment, unless you seek reassurance that your own situation is not, in fact, so desperate.

  • Fire and Ice: The United States, Canada and the Myth of Converging Values, Michael Adams

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Penguin Canada, 2003, 224 pages, C$35.00 hc, ISBN 0-14-301422-6

    As a teenage Canadian during the early nineties, it was easy to feel pessimistic about the future of my country: The free-trade agreement was being expanded to include all of North America, the Meech accord had failed and a recession was going on even as the government still spent like a drunken sailor. Common wisdom had it that, sooner or later, Canada was due for an ultimate absorption into the United States. After all, weren’t the two countries so similar anyway?

    But don’t assume that this kind of thinking was a product of the nineties; ever since Confederation, Canadian history has been dominated by this fear of American hegemony. What’s new, though, is Canada’s growing disbelief in this “myth of converging values.” As Michael Adams sets out to argue in his numbers-enhanced book-length op-ed Fire and Ice, Canada may in fact be at the threshold of a mature understanding of itself as a distinct entity from the United States.

    The genius -and chief distinguishing characteristic- of Fire and Ice is that it’s based on new data extracted from polls conducted in 1992, 1996 and 2000. Adams’ polling company (Environics) conducted surveys in both Canada and the US, asking respondents to agree or disagree with statement designed to measure their attitudes toward social values. Those answers were grouped together to evaluate respondents’ social values, which are then plotted on a two-scale map running from Individuality to Authority on one scale, and from Survival to Fulfilment on the other.

    When Adams started comparing the answers of Canadian respondents to Americans, he saw clear differences. In the book’s most shocking example, when pollsters asked (in 2000) if respondents agreed with the statement “the father of the family must be master in his own home”, 18 percent of Canadians agreed, whereas fully 49 percent of Americans answered affirmatively. (In response to another question, 44% of Americans in 2000 agreed that “a widely advertised product is probably good” versus merely 17% of Canadians.)

    Even more striking: When Adams started comparing results of his surveys from 1992 to 2000, he not only saw important differences between Canadian and American social values (Canadians generally being more individualist and more fulfilment-oriented than Americans), but also saw them headed in increasingly divergent direction: Canada toward Individuality/Fulfilment, and the US toward Individuality/Survival.

    The numbers get more and more interesting as Adams digs into subgroups. Among all age groups, for instance, the relative positions of Canadians versus Americans remains generally constant, but the divergence gets stronger as one goes down the age groups, suggesting than contrarily to popular belief, the difference between younger Americans and Canadians is increasing compared to their elders. More interestingly, regional dissection of social attitudes revealed a Canada clearly different, even region by region, from the United States. Quebec and British Columbia at one end of the social scale, and the American Deep South at the other extremity.

    All of those numbers are spun in a compelling argument about the divergent nature of both countries. Adams is clear in his belief that Canada is becomes an increasingly diverse and socially mature country. He’s not quite as certain of the evolution of trends in the US. Ironically enough, one of the most striking suggestions in Fire and Ice has to do with the American “culture war”. While opponents on both sides of the debate agree that it’s a tug-of-war between conservative and liberal ideology, Adams argues that his number are not showing “winners” in one direction or another, but an orthogonal disaffection with both sides. In the book’s terminology, the conflict between the Authority/Survival values and the Individuality/Fulfilment values are in fact resulting in a massive shift toward Individuality/Survival. (Or, in cruder words, a nihilistic “I get mine; screw you” attitude in a culture already predisposed toward violence.)

    All of which draws up a highly comforting portrait if you happen to be a Canadian or think like one. Adams makes his case with lively writing, plenty of pop-culture references, occasional slams at the Bush administration and a few well-used charts and editorial cartoons. By suggesting that Canada is not only different, but is also evolving in a “better” society than its southern neighbour, Fire and Ice is like catnip to Canadian liberals. I’d love to read American reviews of it.

    I do have a few reservations, mind you. Many of Adam’s examples feel cherry-picked for maximal impact. Even though it’s an argument visibly based on numbers, said numbers are still hidden in Environics’ proprietary databases. It’s also too easy to make sweeping statements based on three data points. The next step would be to conduct the poll again in 2004 and see if the trends are maintained. [February 2004: I was lucky enough to be able to contact Michael Adams by email, and he confirmed that Environics hopes to perform another North-American values survey in late 2004.]

    Certainly, Fire and Ice finds a lot of validation in what one may gather from news and current social trends. If the 2000-2004 period has proved anything for Canadians, it’s that it’s quite possible to disagree with the United States. To be more precise, while every Canadian may have felt like an American on September 12, 2001 (and don’t look at me like that: I was on Parliament Hill with 100,000 other silent Canadians as we mourned 9/11), the aftermath, including the American Invasion of Iraq, proved far more divisive than anything else in recent memory. Canada found spiritual kinship in Europe, not in America.

    What more, the arguments expounded in Fire and Ice resonate with plenty of other recent social commentary. Watch BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE again and tell me with a straight face that America isn’t regressing toward values centred on fearful survival. (Indeed, the Canadian segment of the documentary can almost act as a précis for Adams’ thesis) In an America gating itself in restricted communities, ever-more fearful of poverty and foreigners, isn’t Canada a counter-example worth admiring? One of the virtues of Fire and Ice is how it doesn’t simply lays out the differences between both countries, but also makes educated guesses as to why the land of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness seems to be less free than the land of peace, order and good government.

    Adams’ argument also finds jaw-dropping resonance in another recent book, Robert Kagan’s Of Paradise and Power, a treatise on the growing rift between American and Europe when it comes to defence and foreign policy. Kagan argues that America is choosing Power (economic and military) whereas Europe is headed toward a post-modern Paradise of multilateralism and tolerance. Faced between those two choices, Canada’s logical alternative seems obvious. It’s difficult to escape the feeling that both Kagan and Adams are describing the same thing from different perspective, Kagan being strategic while Adams focuses on the tactical. The portrait, in both cases, h
    as an innate bleakness: The fracturing of the western democracies in two factions, one fully enjoying its position in history while the other one becomes paranoid and aggressive. Kind of takes the extra oomph out of being a kinder, gentler country, doesn’t it?

    In any case, Fire and Ice is a lot to digest in a few dozen pages. (Its main text is barely 144 pages long; the rest of the book is made out of more technical appendices) It’s a whole new social theory, but one that definitely looks like reality. Adams makes a forceful case, and his gentle flag-waving nationalism is a pleasure to read, not just because it happens to be pleasant, but also because it’s written in delightfully readable prose.

    Time and a few more surveys will tell if Adams is on the right track and if our new divergent values will, indeed, keep diverging. In the meantime, though, Fire and ice is likely to be picked up by thousands of interested readers and dozens of university-grade social studies classes. Maybe it’s even headed toward self-prophecy. Who knows? While Adams may spend the first few pages of Fire and Ice explaining why its thesis is so counterintuitive, it comes at a time where the nation (officially declared “cool” by no less an authority than The Economist) finds itself dealing with something new; self-confidence.

    Because, really, when was the last time you heard a Canadian complaining about the inevitability of assimilation? We left that in the twentieth century, baby!

    [April 2009: A new edition of Fire and Ice is now in stores, and if it doesn’t update the main text of the book, it does provide a new 30-pages preface that reflects upon the last few years and presents the latest data from Environics’ 2007-2008 household surveys. Bad news for those who thought that The Obama/Harper combo meant that the nations were growing closer together: Adams’ data suggests that not much has changed in the past few years, and that the nations are still on divergent paths.]

  • Elephant (2003)

    Elephant (2003)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, February 2004) This is a very frustrating film. As a naturalistic, quasi-documentary representation of a high-school shooting, it’s simultaneously pointless and brilliant. Gus Van Sant is an experienced director and Elephant is never better than when it develops its chronology of events through alternate overlapping viewpoints; the camera literally follows one character, then another, then another and it eventually interlocks to forms an almost-coherent picture of what just happened in the span of a few minutes. There are delicious moments of “don’t go there!” suspense as we develop an understanding what is happening at the same moment. (Pay attention, though, and you’ll discover at least one vexing moment of mismatching chronology. Hint; follow the “we’ll be back by one-thirty” line.) Alas, the genius of the premise is not equalled by the execution: the real-time camera moves can be exasperating (“A powerful film about getting from Point A to Point B!”), there are some technical goofs (street is dry; street is wet) and not all flashbacks work equally well. Worse, perhaps, is the film’s lack of an impact: While Van Saint should be commended from turning his film in a message about something, Elephant falls into the opposite trap –to present but not enlighten. Some live, most die arbitrarily, but there is no dramatic arc, no attempt at a resolution. Even the film’s final frames leave a lot unsolved and unexplained. Good point for realism, but this is a mere embryo of what could have been done with the concept.

  • The Butterfly Effect (2004)

    The Butterfly Effect (2004)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, February 2004) Surprise surprise: In the rush to dismiss The Butterfly Effect as yet another career move by it-boy Ashton Kutcher, most seems to have missed the fact that this is, in fact, quite a good film. It doesn’t take a long time to realize that this is a lot darker than anyone could guess. Within the first few unnerving minutes, child abuse, murder, rape, suicide and supernatural creeps are all trotted out in horror-film fashion. It’s not pretty nor engaging, but it works; soon enough, the film presents the usual time-travel premise in a fairly original manner. But what the rather clever script does with it is progressively darker, with scant relief. Now, before anyone gets too enthusiastic, it’s worth pointing out that the film makes less and less sense the closer you peer at it: The time-travel mechanism evolves in pure wishful thinking, while the time-travel paradoxes get more obvious as multiple time-lines are spun. (The protagonist’s motivations are also suspect, but at least the other characters have the guts to call him on it) Still, there’s no denying that the film works rather well on its own as a B-grade supernatural thriller in the Final Destination vein. Kutcher himself does a good job, even though the supporting actors all steal the show as they have to incarnate vastly different versions of themselves. Often uncomfortable but seldom less than intriguing, The Butterfly Effect achieves what it sets out to do. Heck, it even pays appropriate to Ray Bradbury in a split-second visual gag.

  • Barbershop 2: Back in Business (2004)

    Barbershop 2: Back in Business (2004)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, February 2004) This follow-up to the surprise 2002 “black comedy” hit may not have the elegance of its prequel, but it’ll prove more than worthwhile enough for fans of the first film. All protagonists are back for a second cut, and their arc is a natural extension of the first film. This sequel certainly seems to have more money to play with, as the action regularly goes outside the barbershop and around Chicago over a period of several weeks. In a way, that’s unfortunate; the original had a wonderful sense of spacio-temporal unity, a “day in the life” in a barbershop that acted as a refuge against the cold winter. Here, it’s summer and the action hops here and there and even across decades as there are several flashbacks in Eddie’s life. They don’t all work as effectively. The other thing that the sequel has over the original is a sense of what it’s doing, but this self-awareness often translates into self-conscious showboating. The easy, unassuming freshness of the original is somewhat dulled. Then there’s the setup for the next instalment of the franchise, Beauty Shop, which doesn’t quite feel as an organic part of the story. Oh well; at least the actors are having fun and so are we. Warning for French-Canadians or other people without an ear for inner-city slang: You may want to take advantage of a subtitled version to understand some of the rapid dialogue.

  • The Poet, Michael Connelly

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Warner, 1996, 501 pages, C$8.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-446-60261-2

    Michael Connelly has done it again. At a time where I’m quite willing to throw the towel on Yet Another Serial Killer Mystery, he manages to produce a gripping mystery novel about… a serial killer.

    It doesn’t start out that way, of course. All that narrator/protagonist Jack McEvoy knows is that his brother Sean is dead. Jack is a journalist on the crime beat. Sean was a homicide detective before killing himself with his service revolver. But there is something strange about the death, a suicide note quoting Edgar Allan Poe. Did Sean truly pull the trigger on himself?

    Digging deeper, Jack uncovers another suicide with troubling similarities to his brother’s case, a second homicide detective, miles away, killing himself after leaving a note quoting Poe. What is the link? Has Jack discovered a story he can’t handle? The Poet goes on from there, as it becomes more and more obvious that someone, out there, is hunting the hunters.

    Connelly’s reputation for slick crime fiction needs no further bolstering, but works like The Poet are what makes him so great. Serial Killers are, by now, a cliché of crime fiction. It takes some imagination to wring a twist or two out of the concept. In this case, the identity of the victims is a twist; it’s not giving away much that the identity of the killer(s?) is another. Some passages, details and situations show Connelly at his most clever self.

    Fortunately, this isn’t a contemptuous sort of cleverness. The Poet doesn’t take a long time to earn the interest of its readers with its grieving first-person narration, uncluttered close and steady narrative thrust. The novel keeps switching gears to make things interesting: Jack’s solo investigation is soon co-opted by larger forces and he’s swept along with the rest of them in a very different story.

    “The rest of them” is an interesting bunch of characters, most well-defined according to their role in the plot, and as competent as they can be. Nearly all major characters have a pleasing depth to them, and even the tale’s villains prove to be a lot more interesting than usual. As a narrator, Jack has seen so much of the dark side that he’s the next best thing to a hard-boiled detective protagonist. He starts both first and last chapter with the reminder that “Death is my beat” and often, you get a feeling that death has beaten Jack McEvoy at his own game. One can only speculate as to the similitudes between McEvoy and Connelly, himself a crime reporter before turning to the crime-fiction trade.

    As may be expected from the work of an ex-journalist, the wealth of procedural details to be found in Connelly’s book is mesmerizing. We get the feeling of an insider’s view of FBI profiling procedures as Jack is reluctantly made a member of an unusual investigation. As clues are discovered, planted or disproved, the investigation becomes more and more twisted. Connelly plays the mystery fiction game like a grandmaster; even as he honestly manipulates his reader in thinking something, he surprises them with a counter-twist. In some ways, this is a mystery novel for those who are jaded of mysteries; his narrative is stuffed with double and triple twists in an effort to surprise even those who think they can figure it all out.

    This elaborate game of subterfuge between author and reader can take its toll, though: The ending is a bit drawn out, and feels a little artificial in how the twists are finally revealed. After so many procedural details, it’s also surprising to see how little of the villain’s motivation is revealed. There is also a palpable lessening of tension as the precise timing and identity of the rescuing cavalry is never in doubt. But that’s small potatoes of complaints after such an exhilarating book. Clearly, this novel deserves all the acclaim it can get.

    The Poet is a complete entertainment package. It works on all levels, from characterization to plotting to the way the words are strung together. While it falters when comes the moment to present a conclusion, it’s still good enough to uphold Connelly’s reputation as one of today’s best crime novelist. Whether you’re contemplating beach reading or fireside reading, don’t miss it.

  • Nobody’s Safe, Richard Steinberg

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Bantam, 1999, 469 pages, C$9.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-553-58188-0

    I remember standing at the local Chapters bookstore, looking over the New Fiction paperback rack. “For over fifty years, a mysterious organization has been guarding a secret that will change everything you have believed about our government” said the cover of Richard Steinberg’s Nobody’s Safe. I took a look at the back cover, read the blurb and frowned. Aliens, I said to myself. That’s the secret. I don’t normally glance at last pages, but this time the impulsion was too strong: I peeked. And confirmed that, indeed, aliens were the twist of the novel. Needless to say, it went back on the shelf.

    But everything comes around, and years later I met Nobody’s Safe again, this time at a dirt-cheap used book store. Things had changed between that initial contact and this one, though. I admit that I read some authors because they’re bad in interesting ways. Patrick Robinson is one of those, and Richard Steinberg certainly earned his place in that category after The Gemini Man (a rather silly story glorifying a serial killer) and The 4-Phase Man (one of the dullest thrillers I’ve ever read). If Nobody’s Safe measured up to his two other books, I might have been due for a treat.

    As it turns out, Nobody’s Safe is bad, but bad in different ways from his two other novels. Taken together, they could form an unholy trilogy of What Not To Do when writing thrillers.

    The novel starts a lot like Absolute Power (the David Baldacci novel or the film, take your pick) in that a master burglar at work witnesses a brutal murder. But the similarities end there, as Nobody’s Safe‘s Gregory Picaro has a bit more on his plate than a simple presidential homicide: the murdered man had some very intriguing things in his possession, and powerful forces are ready to do anything to retrieve them.

    Take a guess as to the nature of those documents and artifacts retrieved by Picaro. Or better yet, don’t: Among other stupid ideas, Steinberg bluntly reveals documents stamped “MJ-12” on page 72, but remains curiously coy as to the significance and meaning of those documents. Two problems, here: First, the fact that “MJ-12”, or “Majestic-12”, is ridiculously well-known in pop culture as being associated with UFOs, aliens and government cover-ups. Given the success of The X-Files, the prevalence of the Internet and UFO-literature, you’d have to work overtime to find a thriller reader who doesn’t already know about the MJ-12/Aliens link. Why does Steinberg spend so much time, then, pretending that there’s a big secret? Is this a sign that he’s taking his readers for idiots? As the author self-gratifyingly re-invents the big “alien” twist, more experienced readers are liable to frown and bristle at the dripping condescension.

    The second problem with MJ-12 is both more and less serious. It’s quite well-known, by now, that the MJ-12 documents are pure fantasy. No, not just “UFO freaks are nuts” fantasy, but well-disproved forgeries fantasy. (Search around for “MJ-12” and “Phillip Klass” for details) This is a minor issue because it’s been a while since I have expected total realism from my thrillers. To point out that this is a bad novel because, obviously, there’s no such thing as an aliens cover-up is not just highlighting the screamingly obvious, but it’s also somewhat besides the point. What is far more damaging to Nobody’s Safe, however, is that in cheerfully reusing the MJ-12 mythology, Steinberg demonstrates an appealing laziness. Not only does he stoop to recycling stuff, but he’s content to recycle debunked stuff too!

    The rest of the novel isn’t much better, and in fact gets worse and worse. Whole segments of the action are telescoped between chapters, and trivial inanities end up taking forever. (Hint: It’s easy not to care about gypsies if you’re not as fascinated by them as Steinberg is. Really easy, as a matter of fact.) Dozens of pages are wasted on dull scenes even as the action should accelerate. The characters are colourless, and so is the action as contact with the aliens is made. Nobody’s Safe is worse than insulting and condescending like The Gemini Man; it’s dull, and as such clearly points the way to The 4-Phase Man. (I simply can’t resist suggesting the blurb “Nobody’s safe… from that piece-of-crap novel”)

    There are, to be fair, a few interesting details about the art and science of burglary, and at least one intriguing scene where a judge discusses the status of truly illegal aliens. But that’s not nearly enough. The rest of Nobody’s Safe speaks for itself: It’s a bad thriller regardless of how one looks at it and it solidifies Steinberg’s credentials as someone who should be doing other things. Indeed, he doesn’t seem to have published a fourth novel… and while it would be catty enough to suggest that it should remain that way, another part of me can’t help but to mourn this drying fountain of bad books. It means that I’ll have to look forward to the next Patrick Robinson opus.

  • Every Man a Tiger, Tom Clancy & Chuck Horner (ret.)

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Putnam, 1999, 564 pages, C$39.99 hc, ISBN 0-399-14493-5

    Tom Clancy may or may not have written any part of this book (it’s getting hard to tell with the spin-offs, sequels, computer games, recurring allegations of ghostwriting and substantial dip in quality), but his name certainly figures large on the cover. This second tome in the so-called “Command” series ends up combining the mass-market appeal of the Clancy brand with a detailed military study, once again bringing a highly specialized account to wider audiences. I wasn’t particularly impressed with the first volume, Into the Storm (by Clancy and Fred Franks) but if the second volume it still not quite perfect, it’s a great deal more interesting than its predecessor.

    Part of this appeal is Horner himself, a retired fighter/bomber pilot with plenty of tales to tell. From training to a difficult tour of duty in Vietnam to the dark era of the American armed forces to its rebirth through the eighties and its ultimate success during the Gulf War, Franks makes a sympathetic hero. His stories give a good idea of the life of a pilot during that time, and also serve as a key to understand the transformation of the US Air Force from Vietnam to Kuwait.

    This mini-biography takes nearly the first third of the book, and it’s essential in setting up what follows. The Gulf War, in some respects, was the first computerized war. In this case, however, the important things are not the computers, but the things now made possible through them. Coordinated sorties. Inter-forces communications. Precision bombing. Instantaneous battlefield monitoring. Lightning-fast supply lines. Unbelievable logistical feats. The Gulf War was also unprecedented in that air power effectively filled the role of ground forces in “plinking” the opposing land army, reducing their ability to fight well before the army got in action.

    The bulk of Every Man a Tiger offers a description of the Gulf War from Horner’s point of view as one of the allied commanders, with an obvious emphasis on air power. Gulf War buffs will relish the level of detail offered here, from logistical issues to anecdotes and step-per-step progress of the air campaign. Horner isn’t shy at telling what worked and what didn’t: He particularly singles out the search-and-rescue operations as deficient during the air campaign, and lucidly explains the reasons for this problem.

    Through it all, Horner comes across as a model soldier, a man who’s aware of the painful necessity of war, and the need for multilateral cooperation. His sense of humour comes through clearly, and so does his understanding of the constraints in which he operated. There are poignant passages in the book in which he professes his admiration for Arab culture and explains the sacrifices made by the American military forces to include as many allies as possible in their decision process. While it has become fashionable, in these days of the Bush administration, for non-Americans to decry the military might of the United States, it’s easy to forget that the real issue here is the political leadership and not the military forces. Men like Chuck Horner only represent a most admirable professionalism, and professionalism is exactly what we need from them.

    In fact, one of the unexpected treats of Every Man a Tiger is the meticulous description of the political decision-making behind the American intervention in Saudi Arabia and, eventually Kuwait. Horner was lucky enough to be a fly on the wall during some of the crucial top-level meetings, and it’s fascinating to see the ways in which military power is approved, and then how the military itself arranges to deliver this power. (It’s also somewhat unremarkable to notice many of the names which would later star in Gulf War II: Iraq Invasion. Hello Cheney, Powell, Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz…)

    All in all, while this second volume can’t escape a certain trivial dreariness, it’s a somewhat better effort than the frequently-dull Into the Storm. Horner benefits from a bird’s eye perspective on the Gulf War (literally) and this perspective, coupled with a good flow of anecdotes and personal recollections, make this one of the best books yet written on that particular conflict.

  • How to Make a Fortune on the Information Superhighway, Lawrence A. Canter & Martha S. Siegel

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Harper Collins, 1994, 234 pages, C$28.00 hc, ISBN 0-06-270131-2

    Do you like spam? Well, if so, you’re the perfect target audience for this piece of trash book whose repellent reputation is only exceeded by the scorn heaped upon its authors.

    Allow me to use some of my Internet-Old-Timer credentials: In April 1994, Usenet users saw something very strange and very unusual: A message hawking legal services, posted to thousands of unrelated newsgroups. It wasn’t the first piece of spam, but it was widely acknowledged as such as the “Green Card Spam”. (Some will say that it was so appropriate that the first Internet hucksters would be lawyers with the temerity to charge hundreds of dollars for something that can be accomplished with a simple postcard) What we feared at the time (but really had no clue about, of course), was this was merely a small taste of things to come. For better or for worse, it was a significant event, a watershed in the transition of the Internet from its academic origins to its mass-market future.

    Almost immediately after, flush with their success, Canter & Siegel decided to further annoy the burgeoning Internet community by writing a how-to book. As the title so obviously indicates, How to Make a Fortune on the Information Superhighway is decidedly a book dating from 1994 and a proud inheritor of the “Make Money Fast!” school of business methods halfway between doubtful legitimacy and outright fraud. Here, the spamming duo tells all about both using the Internet for making money and forcing any message on unwilling users.

    While I’m sure that the book must have been infuriating back then, things are somewhat different today: While I defy anyone to read this book and not want to slap its authors silly, this anger is somewhat diffused by the unfair advantage of hindsight. Nine years later, the Internet has changed a lot (No one ever calls it the “I-way”, for instance), and there’s a lot of twisted delight in seeing Canter & Siegel make bone-headed assumptions about Internet commerce that, of course, didn’t pan out. (The web as a series of virtual malls modelled after shopping malls? Er, not quite.)

    But it’s somewhat disingenuous of us 2004-folks to laugh, right? As much as it pains me to say so, the truth is that this book does “get” the potential of legitimate business on the Internet, and did so years before everyone else. Yes, the “you too can make tons of money!” tone is grating, and it doesn’t take along time for the authors to reveal their true anti-technological colours (Page 3: “You’re here to make money. Therefore, our best advice is to ignore those clowns. (By clown, we mean the glassy-eyed nerd over there with the pocket protector.)”), but there’s a kernel of truth in this book that, frankly, has to be acknowledged.

    That doesn’t let Canter & Siegel off the hook for what they did, of course. The first few pages of the book are a retelling of the infamous “Green Card Lottery Spam” as seen from their perspective, and no amount of self-congratulatory rhetoric and vituperation about those evil, evil techies can masquerade the authors’ venality. By the third time they’re kicked off their ISPs for their activities, no amount of tearful victimization can justify their wilful disregard for Usenet community standards. Time and time again, self-serving justifications show that Canter and Siegel have heard the right arguments against what they were doing. (Four simple words: “Tragedy of the Commons”. OK, one simple word: “inappropriate”) Yet they pooh-pooh the objections as ravings of marginal curmudgeons and proceed as if everything was OK. It’s during those passages that you start wishing for lighter fluid, a match and a private meeting with the authors.

    Internet historians will undoubtedly get a kick out of this book, if only to hear “the other side” of the story. The delightful text screen-shots alone brought back many memories of very early excursions on the pure-text Internet. Otherwise, well, the web has left this book behind as an artifact of a time that was both simpler and more difficult. In the light of the subsequent spam scourge, it’s interesting to see that even Canter & Siegel are somewhat leery of using unsolicited mass mailings to drum up business [P.104-105]. Go figure why their ethics went so far and no further.

    In the real world, there is a ghoulishly happy conclusion for all Canter & Siegel haters. According to sources around the Internet, the couple had a falling out soon after the publication of the book (a later edition was republished bearing only Siegel’s name), resulting in divorce. Then they lost their license to practise law once again. (They’d lost it in another state for unethical activities well before the “Green Card” spam) Siegel died of cancer in 2000 while Canter established a software company in California. Perhaps proving that there is such a fate worse than death, a 2002 CNET interview revealed an unrepentant Canter bemoaning the fact that he receives over three hundred spams per day.

    How fitting. Welcome to the Internet you have created, you idiot.

  • Wong Fei Hung III: Si wong jaang ba [Once Upon a Time in China 3] (1993)

    Wong Fei Hung III: Si wong jaang ba [Once Upon a Time in China 3] (1993)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, January 2004) Maybe the most plot-heavy instalment of the three and also the silliest as it mixes gangs fighting for a tournament, political assassination, early film technology and a grand villain businessman. Alas, even with all of the above, the China-vs-foreigners theme of the trilogy isn’t as strong here than in the two previous films. Fortunately, it features some of the most memorable moments of the series thus far, with a fight over an oil-slick surface and a colourful finale taking place around a wooden pyramidal structure. Even the character moments have some subtlety, what with the budding romance and the surprising arc of one of the film’s villains. The all-in-one trilogy DVD contains the subbed movie, and that’s pretty much it.