Neverwhere (author's preferred text) - Neil Gaiman

I am always wary of such epithets as ‘Director’s Cut’, or ‘Author’s preferred text’. I have no objection to works being restored to the way their auctor intended, especially if they have been badly butchered or censored. But ninety-five times out of a hundred what we are getting is a self-indulgent, over-stuffed reprint that is cashing in on an author’s (or director’s) popularity.

Sadly, I think this belongs with the ninety-five. I found the story to be thin (very little actually happens – most of the book is padding, looking at the scenery, as it were) and the basic premiss flawed (someone who can open any door without a key, goes on a quest to find a key?). Ideas are not developed, characterisation is scant, there is altogether too much ‘telling’ and not enough ‘showing’, and some of the writing is downright sloppy. Given all the work that was supposed to have gone into producing this ‘preferred text’ you would think someone might have pointed out the rough patches.

I am at a loss (based on this and other Gaiman books I have read) to understand his huge popularity. His books are interesting enough, but if you strip away the mythos that surrounds the author, what you are left with is a mildly interesting entertainment. I do not find the ideas to be especially original (or well-developed). Like Rowling, and others of that ilk, he seems to have ridden a wave not of his own making.

If I had a copy of the book as it was originally published, it might be interesting to see what has been done with it, but I don’t and I won’t be going out of my way to find one.

The Thin Man - Dashiell Hammett

In many senses a standard mystery tale, this stands head, shoulders, and a goodly length of torso above most other books of that genre. It is not just Hammett’s superb writing that elevate this work (although that would be enough on its own), it is the sense that the author has relaxed into his work – paradoxically so as this was his last completed novel.

There are other aspects to the work that make it such a wonderful read. The central characters, Nick and Nora Charles, are a superb creation (and a great deal more convincing than the movie versions). Thought to be based in part on Hammett and Lillian Hellman, there is a genuine rapport between the two with a sufficient edge of tension to make them realistic. The dysfunctional Wynant family is sharply observed, and the minor characters are that rare combination of grotesque and believable.

Nick Charles, once a detective, is drawn into a murder investigation against his will. He is happily retired, helping his wife manage her inheritance. But he has not lost his skills or his tough attitude to life. Acting as a catalyst to official investigations, he helps to solve the mystery and unmask the murderer. Along the way, we are treated to some wonderful scenery, great characters, confident plotting, and writing that is mature, assured, and unfussy.

As an adjunct, I read this in the Library of America edition of the Complete Novels (which I bought to replace my ageing paperbacks). This series of books (the idea derived from the French Bibliothèque de la Pléiade) is a real treat and excellent value. They are authoritative editions of an author’s work, built to last (acid free paper, solidly bound in hardback), and great value. It’s a shame we don’t have something like this in the UK. It would be a much more sensible thing for lottery money to be spent on than some of the projects that have been supported (and failed) in the past.

Passing For Human - Jody Scott

I missed this book when it first came out (and only came across it as I’m obsessively filling in the gaps in my Women’s Press science fiction collection). This was my loss.

The basic story is fairly straightforward sf fare. Alien anthropologists study earth, despair at humans, decide they are a disease that needs wiping out, whilst doing battle with other aliens who wish to enslave humanity (and perhaps produce what would be the most frighteningly efficient and expendable race of warriors the galaxy has ever seen).

In the hands of a lesser writer that could have been a big, steaming pile of schlock. In the hands of Jody Scott, it is a funny, compassionate, and rip-roaring adventure that exposes the flaws in the alien cultures just as readily as it exposes our own.

The pace of the story never lets up, yet it finds room for serious contemplation of humanity’s woes. The style is easy, with an edge of noir. The central character is a bit of a tough girl which, mixed with her naivety about humans, makes for an intriguing and likeable character. Especially as she (in common with the other aliens) inhabits bodies she has chosen from Earth culture – Brenda Starr, Emma Peel, and Virginia Woolf. Who could not like that, especially the final scenes in which Virginia Woolf is involved in a running gun battle.

The humour, pace, and wry observation make this a rare and wonderful beast – a serious science fiction novel that doesn’t take itself seriously.

Screwrape Lettuce - Jack Trevor Story

Story moved from social realism delivered with wry humour (notably his Albert Argyle) novels, to more surreal settings that had a paranoid edge to them. Screwrape Lettuce is one of the latter. Here, attempts by Russian scientists to create a food stuff for rabbits to make them more sexually active (sounds crazy, but no dafter than the cloning of animals that have been reproducing themselves successfully for millions of years), end in disaster. The lettuce, which causes priapism in male mammals, is smuggled onto the black market and reaches England where it starts to create havoc, not least within the special police unit formed to track it down and eradicate it.

This is a very funny book, like his earlier work, and it is still sharply witty. But the humorous edge is not quite as smooth as in earlier books. Here, there is a jagged edge, an angry undertone. It never gets in the way of the story telling, but seethes beneath the surface, transforming the work into a diamond hardness.

In one sense it is easy to see why this angry undertone exists. The targets are worthy of anger. Violence against women, genetic manipulation, cruelty to animals, and a brutal attitude to sex that is seen as the norm by many men. And the British Police. Story had his own, good reasons for disliking the police and they do not escape lightly. Given this, it is a wonder that Story manages to create successfully such a farcical tale.

All the trademarks of Story’s work are here. The acute character observation, flawless story telling, wonderful description, and a sense of the absurd. And also a characteristic lifting away of the social conventions to show the often foetid underbelly of life. All done with an apparent ease and economy of language that tells you this is a real master at work.

Howl's Moving Castle - Diana Wynne Jones

Having watched the film again over Christmas, I decided it was time to revisit the book for the umpteenth time. And what it a joy it was to do so.

I’ve been a fan of DWJ’s books since they first appeared. I read Wilkin’s Tooth to various classes when I was teaching and have followed them ever since. Howl’s Moving Castle is one of my favourites.

Whilst it contains a DWJ trademark plot of complexity, this never detracts from the very simple story at the heart of the book. Fairy tale motifs are seamlessly woven into the author’s own vision and good use is always made of the comic potential (just how do you stop if you are wearing seven-league boots?). And all this told with a unique view of the world that is both charming (in many senses) and invigorating.

All in all, a great way to start the year – a well written book that is fun to read.

And a note on film adaptations. In this instance, the film departs from the book in a number of ways. Yet it also manages to keep the essential story and uses some devices that actually enhance it. I am still in two minds about the steam-punk Edwardianism, but it was nonetheless a well made film and enjoyable in its own right.

Damp Squid – Jeremy Butterfield

It is, perhaps, appropriate that I should round off the year’s reading with such a fascinating little book (thanks, Heather) on words, grammar, and the history of dictionary making. I am a bit of a word nerd. Their history, various contexts, and their evolution are something I find endlessly intriguing. I am also aware that a formal study of linguistics and grammar are way beyond my capacities. It was a real pleasure, then, to pick up a book like this and understand it all.

Through an explanation of how modern dictionaries are compiled and the definitions of words are checked against everyday use, we are shown how the English language evolved, why the spelling of English words is notoriously quirky, and the ways in which certain words group together.

What I found most interesting is the way in which language evolves. This causes a great deal of anguish to those who believe there is a single correct form of English and that not using this is responsible for all sorts of moral degradation. But dictionaries, like rules of grammar, can only describe how language is used by people; they cannot dictate.

Language is a truly magical invention. I do believe that we should all strive to know it as best we can so that we might all communicate more effectively. That is not going to be done by learning rules, but through expanded means of use. We should all read more and more widely. We should all write more and explore the subtleties of the language. Perhaps, just perhaps, all those words would work a bit of magic and the future would be more peaceful.

The Dain Curse - Dashiell Hammett

This is a curious beast of a book. Written in parts for serialisation, the story is deliberately broken into episodes that avoid the traditional cliff-hanger of run-of-the-mill pulp mysteries. Indeed, it eschews the expected violent climax as well. It is this, in part, which lifts it above other detective thrillers. Hammett was never afraid to tell the story the way he wanted, rather than as convention expected.

Yet for all the move away from convention, Hammett is clearly an expert at those aspects of the story where so many others fail. The opening, though downbeat, is immediately intriguing. Even before we know what is going on, we are hooked. Delivered in a style that seems to be a weary seen-it-all narration, we are nonetheless treated to sharp descriptions, wonderful dialogue, and a spareness that takes us into the heart of the story.

Starting with a diamond robbery, moving on to a cult, with a bit of drug taking and a number of clearly unbalanced characters, Hammett leads us calmly through the maze, pointing out some routes, leaving us to find the others.

This isn’t a whodunit (although there are aspects of a puzzle about the work, and the solution is clear once pointed out) any more than it is a ‘thriller’. This is another case for the Continental Op. Yet at the heart of it, there are real people and whilst the nameless narrator may be hardened and made cynical by the things he has seen, he is a much more complex character. Indeed, we are never quite sure in the end what his feelings are for Gabrielle. It is not a relationship that could ever work, but they do seem to develop a genuine regard for one another as they book progresses.

The intriguing story aside (and Hammett gets better – his next novel is The Maltese Falcon, after all), Hammett can and should be read for the way in which he uses the language. Nothing is wasted, everything pared down to its essential. Yet he still creates rich sceneries and populates them with wonderful characters. Even the minor characters have a vivid reality that more florid writers never attain. And to top it all, he writes excellent stories.