Hitting the Books

Fardles, as Sorka Hanrahan, the first Dragonlady, might say.

I just finished Dragon’s Fire, the latest installment in the Pern series, and am less than impressed. In fact, I’m downright disappointed.

The story is so-so to begin with, but what I found on page 194 ruined it for me. I did a double take, flipped back to the beginning of the book, and sure enough, the authors had repeated themselves. Almost word for word.

p. 31

A wing of dragons suddenly appeared in the sky, well below the queens, and moments later the loud booms of their arrival shook the air.

“They look small, ” Cristov said, surprised.

“They’re weyrlings,” the harper said. “They’re just old enough to fly between and carry firestone.”

p.194

A wing of dragons suddenly appeared in the sky, well below the queens, and moments later the loud booms of their arrival shook the air.

“They look small, ” Cristov marveled.

“They’re weyrlings,” Britell replied. “They’re just old enough to fly between and carry firestone.”

Okay, a small cut and paste error–anyone could make one of those. But there was another, larger instance in the same scene.

p. 32

A ripple of overwhelming sound and a burst of cold air announced the arrival of a huge wing of dragons, flying low over the crowd.

“Telgar!” The crowd shouted as the dragons entered a steep dive, twisted into a sharp rolling climb, and came to a halt, their formation intermeshed with the weyrlings so perfectly that it looked like the two wings of dragons had been flying as one, even though the fighting wing was head to head and a meter underneath the weyrlings.

Cristov gasped as a rain of sacks fell from the weyrlings only to be caught by the riders of the great fighting dragons. Looking at the jacket worn by the bronze rider leading the fighting wing, he saw the stylized field of wheat set in a white diamond–it was the Weyrleader himself!

As one, the fighting wing of dragons turned and dove again, flawlessly returning to hover in the same place where it had come from between. As the dragons hovered, their great necks twisted and their heads turned back to face their riders, who opened the sacks they had caught to feed the firestone to their dragons.

“Nasty stuff, firestone,” Cristov heard the harper mutter behind him. “Nasty stuff.”

Then, on page 195:

A ripple of overwhelming sound and a burst of cold air announced the arrival of a huge wing of dragons, flying low over the crowd.

“Telgar!” The crowd shouted as the dragons entered a steep dive, twisted into a sharp rolling climb, and came to a halt, their formation now aligned just below the weyrlings so perfectly that it looked like the two wings of dragons had been flying as twins, even though the fighting wing was head to head and a meter underneath the weyrlings.

A rain of sacks fell from the weyrlings and were caught by the riders of the great fighting dragons. Cristov looked at the jacket worn by the bronze rider leading the fighting wing and gasped when he saw the stylized field of wheat set in a white diamond: It was the Weyrleader himself!

As one, the fighting wing of dragons turned and dove again, flawlessly returning to hover in the same place where it had come from between. The great great necks of the flying beasts turned back and the riders opened the sacks they had caught from the weyrlings to feed the firestone to their dragons.

And a few lines later…

“Nasty stuff, firestone,” Cristov heard the Lord Holder mutter behind him. “Nasty stuff.”

So there were a few minor word changes here and there, but it is quite obviously the same scene being recycled.

Also, on p. 49, we’re told that Ima, Camp Natalon’s hunter, is a woman. But on p. 56, Ima is called “him.”

(and don’t get me started on the fact that Pellar is only 13, albeit a very mature 13, when he experiences his first mating flight.)

Little things, but things that made me feel like neither one of the McCaffreys (or their editor) really cared all that much about the quality of their writing. Sloppy, thrown-together, formulaic–that’s what the Pern stories have become.

I’ve read all the Pern books (except Dragonsblood–Wind Blossom was not a sympathetic character in Dragonsdawn, so I was surprised to see her as a main character in this one). I used to read and reread them, but now I think the series has gone on long enough. The new stories are tired, the characters bland, the writing almost insipid.

Or maybe I’ve just gotten too critical. But that’s another post.

A blurb on the back cover says, “The torch has been passed and burns more brightly than ever…”

That may be true, but I think the torch has passed to Naomi Novik, not Todd McCaffrey.

His Majesty’s Dragon

Throne of Jade

Black Powder War

by Naomi Novik

A new twist on dragons? Is such a thing possible? Much to my surprise, and delight, there is, and Naomi Novik proves it.

“Aerial combat brings a thrilling new dimension to the Napoleonic Wars as valiant warriors rise to Britain’s defense by taking to the skies…not aboard aircraft, but atop the mighty backs of fighting dragons.” –back blurb of His Majesty’s Dragon

Short, short synopsis:

Will Laurence is captain of HMS Reliant. A captured French ship yields the prize of an unhatched dragon egg. But the ship is too far from shore to bring the egg to the Aerial Corps before it hatches. So Laurence is forced to trade his ship for a dragon, a rare black dragon he names Temeraire (after the dreadnought of the same name).

Of course, Laurence is not a proper aviator, nor is Temeraire a usual dragon–he is a Chinese Imperial, and extraordinarily intelligent and free-willed. The two newcomers proceed to turn the Aerial Corps upside-down with their strange ideas on how things should be done.

I shan’t spoil the rest of the story with more information, except to say Temeraire isn’t really an Imperial after all, and this discovery leads to all sorts of trouble in books 2 and 3.

You know, I’m having the worst time finishing this post–I started it on Sunday night, and haven’t gotten it done yet. So I’m just going to put up what I have here and leave it be.

Bottom line–I really enjoyed this series. Do read them, especially if you like this era of history. Novik does an excellent job of capturing the feel of the times.

It’s because I’ve still not recovered.

From the first day of the trip.

My Tuesday went like this:

Went to bed about 330 a.m.

Daughter woke up about 335 a.m. with allergy itchies. Took another 1/2-3/4 hours to get her back to sleep.

Husband wakes me up at 5 a.m.

5:30 a.m. Pack the car in the pouring rain. Throw husband, daughter, and both dogs in the car and set off to slog through the first-day-after-holiday morning rush hour on Interstate 95.

It’s still pouring.

About 715 a.m.ish smell something weird. We figure it’s a car nearby, since traffic is very heavy, even on the HOV (which we were able to take, thank goodness)

Shortly after 730 take the Arlington exit towards Ronald Reagan National Airport. It’s still pouring, but at least it’s light enough to see. Car is acting strangely. I think it’s because the brakes are wet.

Then the power steering goes out. And the power brakes. Then we see that the temp gauge is railed on H. And the little dashboard light of the thermometer is a bright red.

I manage to pull into a hotel parking lot and crank the wheel enough that we’re not in the middle of the driveway (instead we’re dead smack dab in the middle of both handicapped parking spots).

Hubby calls AAA. They can’t be there until about 945. It’s now not quite 8 a.m. Hubby has to get to the airport pronto to get through security in time to catch his 10 a.m. flight. And National has got some of the tightest security out there.

Thankfully, the hotel lets him take their shuttle bus to the airport.

But he has to leave me there waiting for AAA. In the pouring rain. With a quite dead car. And a 20 month old. And two dogs.

The plot thickens.

I talk to my dad, who knows cars. His long-distance diagnosis–broken drive belt. The thingy that runs the entire car.

Ack.

Sure enough, once the rain lets up I see under the car, and there’s the belt, hanging off the bottom of the van.

Double ack.

Hubby makes his flight just fine (whew). But 10 a.m. rolls around and no tow truck. I call AAA. The tow truck is stuck in traffic and won’t be there until 11 a.m.

At first AAA wants to send us to a dealership across the river in downtown DC. I freak. What am I supposed to do with two dogs and a toddler in downtown DC? A very nice agent finds a much closer dealership (about 4 miles away).

Okay, so the car has a place to go. What about the rest of us? I don’t know anybody up in NoVa, not anymore. And certainly not anyone who could take two dogs and a carseat in their car. I put out an SOS to my church.

The tow truck finally arrives. The dogs are not pleased to be kept in the car while being towed (even on a flatbed tow truck)

Meanwhile, my pastor is driving up from Garrisonville (about an hour-1.5 hours south). He meets me at the dealership and takes us all the way to Dulles Airport, where we picked up the key to my aunt’s condo in Ashburn.

My mother was already on the road from WV, met us in Ashburn, and then we all drove back to WV.

I was hoping to be in WV by about 11 a.m. that morning. Even with traffic it should have only taken 2.5 hours from DC to Mom and Dad’s place.

We arrive at their apartment about 630 p.m.

Needless to say, I was quite bushed/shattered/braindead.

The dealership actually had our car fixed by the next day (amazing, huh?). A pulley on the drive belt had broken, so we had to replace the pulley, a tensioner, the belt, and some shield that was supposed to be underneath the car to help protect that area from bumps and elements. A shield which I’ve never seen in all the times I’ve changed the oil in that car. I don’t think it had that shield even when we bought it (we did buy it used). Which is the probable explanation for why that part of the car decided to fall apart.

We had a nice visit in WV, then Friday we got to reverse the trip. And that was all sorts of fun too.

Getting into town wasn’t too bad, since we were going against traffic.

Until we couldn’t find the dealership again and ended up on the wrong end of Glebe Road and had to backtrack through Arlington. Yes, we had directions from the Internet. But like Internet directions, it took us the straightest route = straight through the suburbs of DC. I refused and plotted an alternate, mostly interstate, route. And managed to get us lost. Which is strange, because I’m usually very good with maps and directions and whatnot.

Finally picked up the car around 4, got everything switched back over from Mom’s car to mine, and hit the road around 415 p.m.

Just in time to hit Friday afternoon rush hour traffic.

It took me 1.5 hours to go 20 miles.

Got home before dark, unloaded the car, and collapsed.

Could have been a lot worse. Car could have died on the interstate, the engine could have seized, the water pump could have broken, hubby could have missed his flight, we could have been on the wrong side of town, could have been stranded for longer, car could have cost more than it was worth to fix, and so on.

But it was still exhausting.

To top it off I had 3 Irish dance performances Saturday, family get-together Sunday, and pictures for the Punkin Monday morning.

And I miss my hubby

I’m going to go collapse in my bed now. I’m hoping to post a review of the Temeraire series tomorrow.

Later.

I’m rather scatterbrained right now. My hubbie leaves for 2 1/2 weeks of job-related stuff out in California (the middle of the Mojave Desert. Ickers), and the Punkin, the dogs, and I are headed to WV to see my folks. Have to leave here at 530 am. And our usual bedtime is around 2 am. Yeah, tomorrow’s going to be a lonnnng day.

I’ll try to post from the boondocks, but can’t guarantee.

Laters!

Of course, of course.

Just a quick little post today…

Most writers don’t have a clue how to write horses accurately. Even those of us who do have a clue often don’t have enough of a clue. I’m fairly knowledgeable about horses and the basics of riding. But all my books, both historical and fantasy, focus around horses (Star and Travis both raise horses, and Faela was a horse at one time). Therefore, I better make darn certain I know what I’m talking about.

Since I’ve been so impressed with Holly Lisle’s stuff (if you can’t tell–I’m starting to sound like a Tupperware saleswoman), I downloaded Horses for Writers, by Elizabeth J. Baldwin.

Ya know, there’s a bunch I didn’t know I didn’t know about horses.

For example, did you know that true black horses tend to fade in sunlight? And that they have very little stamina? Makes a writer rethink that coal-black stallion that the hero rides in on, doesn’t it?

And her one page about side saddles got me looking about on line. I’m quite curious now to actually try riding aside–it actually looks like fun (and bit more comfy for us short-legged riders who tend to have their legs spread just a wee bit too far by most horses)

Baldwin packs quite a lot into this little book. It’s obviously not meant for really in-depth writing about horses, but it will keep most authors from looking like total greenhorns.

Anyhoo, another book to add to your writer’s arsenal. I recommend it, and if you buy it now, you can get this handy cake saver/carrier for only $3.99!