June
22,
2004
It seems like just weeks ago that I was reviewing graphic novels by
Joss Whedon and Grant Morrison, mostly because it was; but here I am
again with another set — Joss Whedon’s Fray
and Grant
Morrison’s New X-Men: Imperial
.
In my comments about Morrison’s first New X-Men volume, I remarked
that it was too early to come to any judgments, as it felt like he was
just setting the scene for a story. At least some of that story
appears to happen in Imperial, and on the basis of that story,
my verdict is: It’s okay. Morrison seems to be writing a bog-standard
X-Men story, and while it’s very well-written, it’s nothing that
stands out particularly far. I suppose that for X-Men fans, who’ve
had to read a lot of dreck over the years, “superbly competent” is
something to be grateful for; for the general reader, though, it
translates into “skippable.” Of course, I have a weak spot for graphic
novels, and I’m a bit worried that I might yet have come to a
premature conclusion, so I’ll read on and report back.
“Skippable” also describes Whedon’s work. Fray (which,
unlike the Tales of the Slayers volume, is a single long work)
is set in the distant future of the Buffyverse, after magic has
(mostly) left the world, and all that’s left is generic future
dystopia. The eponymous protagonist is the heir to the Slayer legacy
and will need to discover her power and overcome her literal and
metaphorical demons.
On the evidence of his DVD boxed sets, Whedon is a creative genius;
but whether it’s because he wasn’t trying hard enough or because his
skills haven’t yet transferred to the graphic novel medium, very
little of that genius is on display here. This is a perfectly
adequate and competent comic, but it’s never more than that. As with
the Morrison comic, this is worth reading if you’re a devoted fan of
the source material, but of little general interest.
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June
10,
2004
Terry Pratchett’s A Hat Full of Sky
is the most
recent putatively-YA Discworld novel; unlike its predecessors, it
actually has a bit of a YA feel to it. That’s not an impression I can
quantify or back up with hard evidence, but the writing seems to be
aimed at someone younger than the presumptive reader of other
Discworld novels.
If I’d heard that before I read the book, I’d’ve been a bit worried
— most YA books are terrible, and the best of them are those that,
like Pratchett’s other YA books and Pullman’s trilogy, aren’t really
YA at all. In this case, though, there’s no need for worry — while
it’s not as good as
Wee Free Men
, this is a
solid, above-average Discworld novel.
The comparison to Wee Free Men is particularly apt, because
this is a direct sequel, with young witch-in-training Tiffany Aching
once again featuring as the protagonist; apparently, Pratchett’s got a
new Discworld subseries to sit alongside the Death, Vimes, Rincewind,
and Witches subserieses. The problem with making Tiffany Aching into
a full-on subseries protagonist is that she’s too similar to existing
characters — she reads as a mix of (to a small extent) Susan and (to a
large extent) Granny Weatherwax.
That’s not entirely a bad thing. Both Weatherwax and Susan are great
characters who make for interesting stories; likewise with Tiffany.
But because she’s the third iteration of the character type, Tiffany
comes off as just another instance of that type, rather than as a
unique character. More problematic, she’s not (in this book, at
least) entirely believable. It’s one thing for an 11-year-old to be
uncommonly wise, powerful, and perceptive; it’s another for her to be
as wise, powerful, and perceptive as the legendary Granny Weatherwax.
A young girl, no matter what her background and innate sensibility,
isn’t going to have the same capacity for reflection, insight, and
wisdom as a particulary wise old woman.
I suppose I can handwave Tiffany’s absurd coolness away with the
excuse that it’s traditional for children in YA books to be talented
far beyond their years — just think of Ender, who’s the least
plausible awesomely cool child ever committed to paper — but it’s a
bit of a bother nevertheless, particularly because I expect more from
Pratchett than genre convention.
But whatever plausibility problems Tiffany has, it must be admitted
that she does make for a great character, particularly with her
entourage of Nac Mac Feegle (who, with familiarity, become less
amusing than in the previous book, but are still far from tired and
trite). Even though she’s a stereotypical Discworld witch, and the
story of A Hat Full of Sky is a stereotypical Discworld witch
plot, it’s still a damn fine story.
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June
8,
2004
Jo Walton’s first novel, The King’s Peace, was a book that I
respected but didn’t like — I could tell that it succeeded at what it
set out to do, but I wasn’t interested in reading a book of that sort
(post-Roman Anglo-celtish quasi-Arthur), no matter how well done.
Respecting a book without liking it is always a disquieting experience
for me — I’m still bothered by not finishing that Gene Wolfe short
story collection — so I was a bit hesitant about starting Jo
Walton’s Tooth and Claw
. As is typically the case, my
hesitation was misplaced.
I’d not liked Walton’s first novel because it was in a milieu I was
tired of; but there’s no way anyone could be tired of the setting of
Tooth and Claw, because it’s wonderfully original and unique.
The motivation for the book, an author’s note informs us, is to create
a world where the conventions of Victorian sentimental novels are laws
of nature. Which means, in this case, that the characters are all
dragons.
The surprising thing about this novel is how well it works on all
the levels on which it needs to work. On one level, it needs to work
as a Victorian novel, complete with blushing maidens, a somewhat
rakish city to contrast to the dowdy countryside, a slightly venal
parson, snobbish noble patrons, and lots of concern about weddings.
On another level, it needs to work as a piece of science fiction,
complete with plausible world-building, characters who make sense on
their own terms, and enough originality not to feel like England with
the serial numbers filed off. Combining these two elements is not an
especially easy task, one would think.
But not only does this book succeed at both, but the combination of
the two elements make for a novel that’s deeper and more interesting
than either Victorian pastiche or intelligent-dragon world-building
would be on their own. This is, in short, a superb novel, both fun to
read and possessed of literary virtue, great writing, and insight into
humanity. If the premise sounds at all interesting to you, go read
it.
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June
1,
2004
It occurs to me that it’s probably not kosher to treat graphic
novels as if they’re purely written works, and that referring to
Grant Morrison’s New X-Men: E is for Extinction
or
Joss Whedon’s Tales of the Slayers
without any reference
to whoever it is that drew the pictures is to give an incomplete
attribution. So I’ll offer a pro forma apology here to all the
artists I’ve slighted, but I’ll continue to slight them, because when
it comes down to it, I don’t read comic books for the pictures; I read
them for the writing.
Joss Whedon, of course, is a damn fine writer. The thing is,
normally he’s writing for television. I was a bit apprehensive about
buying a comic book set in a TV-show world, because... well, because
they generally suck. The vast majority of Star Trek and Star Wars
fiction out there are terrible, and even the ones that aren’t overtly
bad read distressingly like fan fiction. But in this case, I figured
it’d be okay, because 1) it was written by the original creators
(Whedon writes several of the stories in the book; other writers of
Buffy (and one actress) write the rest) thereby avoiding the
fanfic nature, and 2) it doesn’t focus on the characters from the
show, so feels less like a derivative knock-off and more like an
independent work that happens to be set in the same mythos.
Really, Tales of the Slayers feels like one of those
digressive volumes of The Sandman, where Morpheus appears in
different times and settings throughout history, but the story isn’t
part of any larger arc — think Worlds End. Like those volumes,
Tales is a series of disconnected vignettes set in a larger
mythic universe, each with a common plot element — in this case, the
Slayers. In each story, some historical Slayer appears and engages in
a bit of plottery. The variety in setting and style is a strength, as
it’s interesting to see Whedon’s Buffyverse extended in new
directions. Unfortunately, each of the stories is too short to really
deliver any strong impact. For fans of the show, this is an
interesting and non-guilty read, but it doesn’t rise to any level
higher than that.
Where Joss Whedon had the obstacle of writing a book set in a TV
universe, Grant Morrison had a different problem: He had to write a
book set in a mostly-trashed comic universe. I haven’t read a real,
mainstream Marvel Universe book since the 80s, because they got more
than a bit weird in the 90s; as a result, I was reluctant to read one
now, because I have no idea what the continuity is like. But I read that Morrison’s run on New X-Men was both
good and self-contained, so I figured I’d give it a go, pretending
that (like the Ultimate books) it had no necessary relation to past
continuity, and that referred-to past events had never
happened on-screen. While not strictly true — Morrison isn’t doing a clean
reboot, even if his storyline is fairly self-contained — this is a
workable approach so far, and spares me the trouble of wondering what
a once-dead Jean Grey is doing walking around, or where the various
other X-Men went off to.
As for the book itself, it’s too early for me to make any judgment.
The pacing is weird, with significant events happening too quickly and
with too little fanfare. In truth, it feels like Morrison is
frantically clearing the stage to get the Marvel Universe to where he
wants it to be so he can write the story he wants to tell. So, he’s
killing off these people, getting rid of that element, and changing
things around to introduce these other things. If this all turns out to
be relevant to the story he’s telling, and the story turns out to be
worth the setup, it’s all good. If not, it’s a waste of time. We’ll
see; there are six more volumes of Morrison’s run, and this one was
enjoyable enough (certainly well-written on the micro level) that I’ll
give them a whirl.
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