Hitting the Books

I’ve been rereading Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series. I meant to post a review on books 1-5, then another on 6-10, and then New Spring and Knife of Dreams when I finish them. Well, I’m halfway through Winter’s Heart (book 9) and I just keep putting off those posts. Sigh. Bad blogger.

I’m not going to bother trying to summarize each book. They’re much too long and convoluted for that. I actually have a chart where I’m trying to keep track of the major viewpoints/storylines/characters in each book…I’m not succeeding very well as there are far too many of all three. A very, very simplified summary: The One Power that turns the Wheel of Time is divided into two parts–saidar (female) and saidin (male). Ages ago, the Aes Sedai (those who wield the One Power) bored a hole in the Dark One’s prison. In the process of resealing the prison, saidin became tainted, driving the men who wielded it insane. They nearly destroyed the entire world in their madness. Over the following ages, only women are allowed to channel the power. Men who can channel are hunted down and “gentled” or killed outright. But there is a prophecy that when the Dark One breaks free from his prison, Lew Therin Telemon (also called the Dragon), the greatest of the male Aes Sedai, will be reborn to battle the Shadow at Tarmon Gai’don.

Ages later, a simple shepherd named Rand al’Thor discovers to his horror that he is the Dragon Reborn. The books tell (in excruciating detail) the adventures/exploits of Rand and his friends and enemies as the world moves towards the Last Battle.

This time through the series I’ve found several “Oh, I missed that the first time” scenes, and some interesting observations. In no particular order…

1. Robert Jordan has been lauded for his strong female characters. But you know what? He has only two female characters in the entire series! I’m serious. Different names and backgrounds, but only two basic types. His women are all either strong-willed, proud, manipulative, and good, or strong-willed, proud, manipulative,and bad. The poor men are hen-pecked every which way but Tuesday and have no clue what these women are thinking while the women all have knives up their sleeves or use the One Power and think they know everything. There isn’t a single meek, gentle-spirited woman in there. Never a true damsel in distress. Or if a female character is rescued by a male, she rarely says thank-you and usually blames the man for screwing up whatever escape plan she had thought up. The best example is Mat’s continual rescuing of Elayne, Nynaeve, and Aviendha. Not only do they not say Thanks, they proceed to berate the poor guy for messing up their plans. Every time. Any word of thanks is given reluctantly, if at all.2. Jordan has created an incredibly detailed world, but he repeats the same details over and over in every book. Sometimes it feels like he was paid by the word, or that he just cut and pastes whole sections from one book to the next. 3. Every author has a pet phrase. One I’ve noticed is “good stout Two Rivers woolens” or “good stout shoes” or “stout Two Rivers woolens.” Never just “a wool dress.” 4. Speaking of dresses, maybe RJ should have gone into fashion design. He spends a large amount of time describing the dresses and suits worn, down to the flowers embroidered across the bodice or scrollwork up the sleeves. This is both good and bad. Good that he is so detail-oriented. Bad because some scenes are nothing but fashion shows (especially in the world of dreams). 5. I really don’t like Faile. There is very little redeeming in her character. I really liked Perrin (I have a thing for wolves), until he allowed himself to be chained to that jealous little cat. Oh, pardon me. Falcon. She doesn’t deserve a nice guy like him. And Berelain needs to be spayed. 6. In The Shadow Rising, at the big battle between the Two Rivers folk and the Trollocs, the Trollocs shout “Isam!” I’d never caught that before. Isam was the name of Lan’s cousin who was lost as a baby when he and his mother were overtaken by Trollocs. Why would the Trollocs be shouting his name? Hopefully Jordan has a good answer for us. 7. In the same vein, Lord Luc is the supposed Hunter for the Horn who shows up in Two Rivers about the same time Perrin returns. Prince Luc of Andor was Tigrane’s brother (Rand’s uncle), who disappeared into the Blight shortly before Tigrane herself went to the Aiel. Coincidence? 8. I swear, if Nynaeve yanks on that braid one more time, I’m going to scream. I really liked Nynaeve the first few times I read these books (I still like the relationship between her and Lan), but this time through it just struck me what a little shrew she is. 9. Did I mention how much I hate Faile? That whole section with her, Alliandre, and Morgase being captured by the Shaido…why? Totally unnecessary. Except to add almost a full book to the series. 10. This time through, I think Mat is my favorite character. He seems to be the most rounded of the characters, and in many ways (despite his fondness for gambling, wenching, and drinking) is a good guy. He keeps his promises no matter what, he’s trying to be a single father, and he’s the only one that seems to have a sense of humor left. Poor man will probably be made miserable by Tuon. Sigh. 11. Better maps would be very nice. Unless we’re supposed to shell out more money for the companion atlas. And maybe subchapter headings, like Tom Clancy does, so you know who, where, and when. Cast of Characters would be nice too.

But despite having to plow through so much wordage to get at the story, I really do like this series. I’m anxious to see how it ends…in another couple years. Double sigh.

Island in the Sea of Time Against the Tide of Years On the Oceans of Eternity S.M. Stirling

Well, I’ve finally done it. Finished this series, that is. And I have come to a conclusion–I don’t really care for S.M. Stirling’s writing after all. I was hoping Dies the Fire was an abberation in his writing style. It wasn’t.

The premise to Island in the Sea of Time is really quite intriguing. One night in March 1998, a dome of blinding light covers the island of Nantucket. When it finally disappears, the whole island has been sent back through time to the year 1250 B.C. Being good Yankees, they call a Town Meeting to discuss what to do next.

There just happens to be a professor of Classical History (Ian Arnstein) visiting the island. He just happens to be a fan of alternative history fiction, so he “knows” what the Islanders must plan for in order to survive. The Coast Guard also just happened to have an old-fashioned sailing ship training nearby and it too was sent back in time, so the Islanders are not without a seaworthy ship. Its captain, Marion Alston, leads an exploratory mission to the British Isles to find trading partners. In the process, she rescues Swindapa, who just happens to be an important priestess of the Earth Folk.

The second half of Island in the Sea of Time surrounds William Walker, Alston’s XO, who decides he wants to carve out his own little empire in this time. Stealing a ship, supplies, and a blacksmith, he heads over to Britain and becomes a leader of the Sun People, who are trying to subjegate the peace-loving Earth Folk. This allows Stirling to write lots of scenes about battles, rapes, tortures (especially in the case of Dr. Alice Hong, Walker’s sadistic wife), and other blood-drenching acts. Of course, the Islanders can’t allow Walker to get away with this. So the Eagle People (as they come to be called) ally with the Earth Folk, and kick Walker out of Britain.

Against the Tide of Years has Walker taking over large swaths of Greece. In response, Ian Arnstein and his new wife Doreen (the astronomer who figured out the whole time thing in the first place) are sent to form an alliance with the king of Babylon. Book 2 ends with the Battle of Troy.

On the Oceans of Eternity consists of battles, more battles, and still more battles as the Eagle People/Amerikkuns try to defeat Walker. He is finally dealt with, the world is at peace, and the Islanders look forward to shaping the world while avoiding so many of the mistakes made the first time.

So much for the summary. Now for the review. As in Dies the Fire, Stirling seems to rely more on stereotypes than on actual characterization. The sadistic doctor, the Yankee police chief of few words, the engineer who only cares about his machines, etc. The most glaring example of this is Marion Alston. She’s black, from a poor Southern family, an older female officer, a martial arts expert, and a lesbian (her partner, Swindapa, is white, young, blond-hair and blue-eyes). Uber-P.C. stereotype.

Which leads to another issue I had with this series. Stirling seems to like writing deviant sexual relationships (including rapes and Walker and Hong’s S & M scenes) in detail. Normal sexual relationships get maybe one love scene per couple, typically involving little more than a kiss and implied actions, while Swindapa and Alston go at it almost every single chapter. The nearest thing I can figure on his obsession with their relationship is what a guy friend told me once. He said many men think “one beer good, two beers better.” That also translates to “one girl good, two girls better.”

And again, I really could not connect to most of the characters. I did enjoy the Babylonian storyline. And most definitely Odikweos. Otherwise known as Odysseus. Throwing him in the story made for some neat plot twists. But the rest…eh. Cardboard cutouts that exist only to populate Stirling’s numerous battle scenes, which seem to be his first love, not the plot or characters.

The plot is not much better. It plods and plods and plods, with all too many unnecessary battles (from what I’ve read, one of them–O’Rourke’s Ford in book 3–seems to be plagarized from the movie Zulu). Then, in the last few pages of the last book, Walker and Hong are dealt with. Wham! Not in battle, or brought to justice by the Islanders, but because they let their guard down. Talk about an unsatisfying ending. Sigh.

But at least it’s over with…for me anyway. Stirling left a door open for future books, but I shan’t be reading them. Things I like in books: rounded characters, moving plots, tight endings. Things which are lacking from this series. Instead there are pages and pages of blood, guts, and gore. Ok, fine, war has those things. But must the author dwell on them in such loving detail? And the unneccessary sex scenes? I don’t even like those in my romance novels. Sorry, Mr. Stirling, but along with losing Nantucket, you’ve lost me as a reader.

My first introduction to romance novels was in grade school, when the school librarian (considering me a very mature reader) asked me to review a new book and tell her if it was “too much” for a 4th grader to handle. The book was Jessica, number 6 in a line of historical romances for teens called Sunfire. I was the perfect age for the sugar-sweet romances these stories portrayed, and the historical aspect fascinated me.

I laugh now at how incredibly cheesy (and rather poorly written) those books were. Back as a preteen, I loved them. The heroines were always strong-willed and beautiful, and they always got to choose between two suitors during some important event of American history (the Civil War, Salem witch trials, Galveston hurricane of 1900). And they all ended the way romances should, with a kiss and the promise of a future together.

Over time, my romance tastes matured (sometimes maturing a bit too fast–I read John Jakes North and South series as an 8th grader. If you’ve ever read those books, you’ll understand why. He definitely did not have preteens in mind when he wrote those.) But one thing never changed–I still prefer the historical novels, as shown by a short list of my read and reread and rereread faves:

Georgian (Jacobite Revolution/Bonnie Prince Charlie era)–Patricia Veryan‘s Golden Chronicles are the absolute best. In fact, I’d have to say she’s my all-time favorite romance author, though Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander is excellent.

Regency–Again, Patricia Veryan (August Falcon almost rivals Mr. Rochester, but to say that is close to blasphemy.) Marion Chesneyanother favorite, though her stories started to repeat themselves after the first dozen or so.

Elswyth Thane’s Williamsburg series–the first two, Dawn’s Early Light and Yankee Stranger are superb. The others aren’t.

Madeline Brent–mystery, intrigue, exotic historical locations, and romance in perfect proportion. Check out Golden Urchin and The Long Masquerade if you can find them.

While writing this post, I discovered several things:

1. I don’t remember being all that interested in history before I started reading historical romances. About the 5th or 6th grade though, I developed a deep love of history. I went to college to study historical preservation (I ended up an international affairs major, but in that I still could take a load of history classes). I moved to Virginia, because the past still lives and breathes here (and because the British Isles weren’t a viable option. Pout). In Virginia I met my husband.

2. Imitation sometimes turns into something more. About the 8th grade I started to write my own historical romance (set during the Civil War, of course). A teacher read part of it, and encouraged me to continue working on it…which I did for the next 15 years. A writing career became a dream of mine.

3. Rereading the series as an adult, I realized that I could, and did, write better than some of these published authors. That thought helped me finally finish writing An Uncivilized Yankee. Even though it’s still unpublished, I consider myself a real author.

And here I am, 20 years after reading Jessica: A wife, a mother, a Virginian, a writer. Would my life have taken the same pathway had I not fallen in love with historical romances? Possibly. Then again, maybe not.

I read an interesting anecdote about Toni Morrison recently. Supposedly, back when she was a struggling new writer, her baby spit up on her notepad, and she kept writing around the pile of gunk rather than lose the flow of the story. Now that I’m a new mother trying to get back into the writing mode while keeping the Punkin happy, I can so empathize with that story. I have discovered that it is near impossible to balance a squirmy 8-month old on one knee, type with one hand (on an ergonomic keyboard no less), and keep said Punkin from lunging at the keyboard with all her little baby strength and stubbornness. (Yes, she’s already figured out that a keyboard is fun to pound on, and all too often her pudgy little fingers come dangerously close to the ctrl-alt-del combination) Place child on the floor to play, and she wails. Wait until the child is asleep to write, and mommy wants little more than to crawl into bed too. Perhaps I should go back to writing out my stories long-hand. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about baby spit shorting out the keyboard.

I’m faring better at getting in reading time (bottle and child in left arm, book propped open with right hand, or late at night when I’m too tired to be creative, but just awake enough to read). This week I started rererereading Robert Jordan’s excellent (if extremely and overly lonnnnggg–I started reading the series in college!) Wheel of Time series. I’m on Book 4 (The Shadow Rising) now and plan on reading all 10 in a row. Yes, 10. And he hasn’t finished the series yet. But he has time work on prequels (New Spring is the first of a projected 3) and comic book (also of New Spring). Despite how good the series is, I honestly believe he could have told the story just as well in fewer books. The subplots have just gotten way out of hand. Sometimes I have the sneaking suspicion he’s written himself into a few corners, and that’s why it’s taking him so long to wrap up all the loose ends. Anyhow, I plan to write a real review of the series (up to this point) when I finish. Which, at the rate I’m going, should be around the end of the month.

I should also (cross fingers, knock on wood) have S.M. Stirling’s Nantucket series done by then. I’m reading Island in the Sea of Time at our favorite local library–Borders. I almost got the book finished last weekend, but between feeding the Punkin, entertaining the Punkin, and making sure the Punkin didn’t try teething on my sandals, I didn’t quite make it.

Breaking News!!! I just found out that Wheel of Time Book 11, Knife of Dreams, is due out October 11. Perfect timing for me! And supposedly a lot storylines reconverge. Yahoo! Alas, Book 12 will be several months/years down the road. But I’m sure I’ll have plenty of things to occupy myself with in the meantime. Like a toddler and potty training and teaching the Punkin how to use the keyboard, not eat it.

This blogging business is deceiving. What could be simpler than an on-line diary, your own personal street corner from which to proclaim your thoughts and feelings to the world? Ah, but there’s a catch–unlike said street corner, where every passerby is a potential listener, you’ve got to attract people to your website (I believe the technical term is “drive traffic”). Therein lies my problem.

I’m not a Luddite, honest (tho’ I still prefer to write out my stories longhand). I’m actually pretty proficient at most technical stuff (that’s the official word for it. Stuff. If you look on page 667 of the Microsoft Handbook for World Domination, you’ll see “All technological applications will hereby be known as ‘stuff.’” ) I can program a VCR without reading the instructions. I can make Word jump through hoops (and occasionally play dead if I’m not careful). I can even brainwash my computer into thinking it’s a record player. But when it comes to the Internet, I often feel like Alice down the rabbit hole. There are some highly explored territories in which I am comfortable. Email I’ve had since the early 90s. Travelocity, Ebay, Amazon…shopping in general is fine. Searching is a piece of cake too. But blogging is a whole different beast. So it was a big step for me to venture into this sector of the cyberworld and start a blog.

My husband the scientist–who teethed on a calculator and learned to walk by toddling towards a Commodore 64. Who spends more time on the computer than I spend awake, and who is well on his way to becoming an überblogger–is full of all sorts of helpful hints for me. I must sign up at Technorati and Blogspot and BlogBlogBlog and BlogExplosion and Carnival of Blogs and Blog of Blogs and Blog.blog and Blogorama and various and sundry other names which go in one ear, bounce around a few times like a pinball, and then speed their way out the other side. Listing with these sites will allow my site to show up in searches of keywords like “book reviews” or “writing” or “stay-at-home moms with diaper-brain.”

Even more vital (according to hubby) is the visiting and leaving of comments on other blogs. Choosing where to go is rather like those old, old computer adventure games. First you have to find a starting point. Okay, I thought to myself. I can do that. A kind young lady left a comment on my blog, so I’ll return the visit. On her blog I found oh-so-many interesting websites related to writing and publishing. So I started clicking on those. And on each of those websites were more websites, and more, more, and before I knew it I was in a room with many doors, an empty birdcage in my hand, and an angry dwarf chasing me with an ax. Thank goodness for the back button on my browser.

Anyhow, it is extremely difficult to draw a line on how far from Website Prime I’m going to travel before calling it quits. I could spend my entire life click click clicking away on my poor little mouse, and still have websites to visit. There are so many relevant sites, but I can’t visit or link to all them. Which should I visit? How am I to choose? Should I even attempt another foray into the dark jungles of the blogosphere, or should I just stay safe at my homepage and hope other, more seasoned, explorers find their way to my site? Decisions, decisions, decisions.

And then there’s the issue of comments. Each comment must be carefully scripted and polished so as to attract readers to your site to discover the source of such wit and sagacity. If I spent as much time writing my books as I do trying to write meaningful comments (or these posts for that matter), I’d have more novels to my name than Barbara Cartland. Where do all these other writer-bloggers find the time? Are their muses more generous with the outpourings of inspiration? Actually, it’s probably 1. they’re not sleeping near as much as I am, and 2. they’re not suffering from an advanced case of diaper-brain (not that I’d trade the source of said diaper-brain for anything, including a publishing contract).

Well, I think it’s time to stop writing and start surfing again. I’ve got my pith helmet and trusty machete ready. Hopefully this time I’ll choose the link that doesn’t have the angry dwarf at the end of it. (And you know, I never did find out what the birdcage was for…)