Review of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time by Mark Haddon

This book was on my ‘To Read’ was a looong time – and finally I got around to it…

Christopher Boone is fifteen and has Asperger’s Syndrome. He knows a very great deal about maths and very little about human beings. He loves lists, patterns and the truth. He hates the colours yellow and brown and being touched. He has never gone further than the end of the road on his own, but when he finds a neighbour’s dog murdered he sets out on a terrifying journey which will turn his whole world upside down.

This short book caused a huge fuss when it first came out in 2003 – and having finally read it, I now know why. Haddon has managed to masterfully inhabit the skin of a teenager who cannot cope with human emotions, suffers from sensory overload and compensates by retreating into mathematical formulae and logical list-making. As a result, when confronted by major events – like being told of the death of his mother, for instance – Christopher tells us what he had to eat that evening and that he went to bed and fell fast asleep.

This doesn’t mean that Christopher is incapable of loving – but that he finds it difficult to understand or relate to his feelings. So when he discovers Wellington, the standard poodle who lives next door, skewered by a garden fork to the lawn, he resolves to find out who murdered it – even when told repeatedly by his father that he mustn’t interfere. He even overcomes his reluctance to engage with strangers in order to ask if anyone has seen anything suspicious – trouble is, he cannot process the heavy hints that a well-meaning neighbour gives him about his own domestic set-up.  His inability to process information that the reader clearly understands gives us greater insights into Christopher’s capacity to engage with the world, while also providing some comedy, albeit the darker, lump-in-your-throat variety. Books that make me both want to weep and laugh hold a special place in my heart – and this one joins that select few.

Haddon not only manages to give us an idea of what it must be like to experience the world while coping with Asperger’s – he also provides us with the daily challenges facing Christopher’s carers. I found myself wondering how you’d survive when the strong-willed, highly intelligent individual in your life retreats into black silence when he encounters a series of the wrong coloured cars on his morning bus ride…

But don’t go away with the notion that this is some worthy, high-mindedly literary attempt to give the rest of us an appreciation of what being born with Asperger’s can entail – the story that powers Christopher’s narration is a mystery. And while we learn who did do it, we also learn what the strains were that led up to the deed and Christopher’s unwitting role in the whole affair. It will be a book that will stay with me for a very long time – and if you want an outstanding example of character-led fiction, then this is a must-read book. Come to think of it – this is a must-read book, anyway.
10/10

The Adventures of Mike and SJ – Episode 4

This thread started on a forum Mike and I shared, when we started playing off each other about this alternative/fantasy persona we each gave ourselves. Since then, we’ve started writing a novel together and Mike has had a number of books published as Michael D. Griffiths (The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part I, The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part II, Eternal Aftermath) while I’ve been busy rewriting several books and establishing my Creative Writing classes at Northbrook College. But though he writes horror and I write sci fi, when we get together, we write… differently! So I thought I’d put a slice of our combined madness on my blog…

Wow

SJ sure has a lot of cool things in here guest room. I guess since her family has lived her for so long these old artifacts just sort of pile up.   Still, why does she let her place go when she has all these old jewels lying around? She could probably just sell a few of these off and be fine.

This Orb is the best though. I can’t stop staring at it.  SJ is off making tea again. Does she have to do that like eight times a day? I must have dozed off. Where was I? Wow this Orb thing almost seems to be glowing. Hmm that is strange. Wasn’t I sitting on the other side of the bed?

Huh, what is SJ all worried about now? She is all in a tizzy about the long drive I asked her to go on. Shoot – after that stupid tank museum, I feel like taking a break.

Chepstow Castle in Wales? I don’t remember asking her to take me there at all. She must be drinking too much tea. But it does sound cool. Oh it’s in Wales, even better!

Sheesh she acts like it is so far. Driving from here to Wales is like going on a wood run back home. Big deal. She says she can take me in the morning. Sweet. It is about time we saw some real castles. Now… where did I leave those Samual Smiths?

***

Thank goodness our day out at Bovington went off smoothly – no ‘wax’ incidents, I’m pleased to say. Altho’ Mike wasn’t in the best of moods.

I thought he’d enjoy seeing all those cool tanks, with their riveting history. But he grumbled constantly about the car journey. Kept telling me to ‘open her up’ and ‘put the pedal to the metal’. Whatever that means. I’ve got perfectly respectable mats in my little Ford Fiesta, I’ll have you know. And as for ‘opening her up’ – as I kept telling him HOW??? There were always cars ahead of us. So then he’d jab me in the ribs and yell, ‘There’s a space, go on, just zip by…’ When we’d have been smeared across the radiator grill of some 42 tonner coming towards us.

And halfway around Bovington museum, when I’d just got onto explaining to him the crucial role of the Sherman T in WW2, he got all fidgety and wanted to know whether there were any swords or suits of armour. So we had a nice cup of tea and went home again. With him still moaning about the traffic, all the cars, the speed I was driving at… Meaning, I was obeying all the speed restrictions (there’s lots and lots, by the way.) I was taking extra care to make sure I wasn’t breaking any rules, because there was this black SUV four or five cars back. It tailed us all the way to Bovington and all the way back…

So when we got home to a tasty, nourishing meal of spaghetti hoops on toast (Mike grumbled about that too. Bit of a cheek from someone who served up rat burgers night after night, when I was his guest…) my jaw grazed the floor, when he announced that he wanted to drive to Wales the following day. Wales! He’d been nearly cross-eyed with frustration on the drive to Bovington. Wales was a whole lot further… But – nope, I couldn’t talk him out of it. Mike wanted to go to Chepstow Castle. When I mentioned the price of fuel, he just sniggered and said I should think about selling some of the cool stuff in my spare room.

I smiled and said it was too precious. I mean, I know my signed copy of Terry Pratchett’s Hogfather would be worth a bit – even with the crayon drawing little Johnny did of the pig arriving at Crumley’s all over the first 30 pages… But I couldn’t part with it. I don’t ever part with a book…

So, this morning we set off. And now… here we are. Finally arrived in Chepstow. Thank goodness. If I’d had to spend another hour in the car with Mr Why-aren’t-we-there-yet, one of us would have ended up on the grass verge. And it wouldn’t necessarily have been Mike…

And after raising a second mortgage on the house to pay for the fuel to get here – Mike threw a tantrum cos I wouldn’t take us to St Justinans Country Hotel for our stay. Accused me of being mean! Well, then I lost it. Parked on a double yellow – hauled him out’ve the car and took him to the nearest hole in the wall, punched in my PIN number and showed him the extent of my wealth. He had the grace to look a bit ashamed, but still went on muttering about the ‘stuff in my spare room’.

So, we’ve ended up here, at the Rat and Dog Inn on a ‘bargain’ package. Meaning our rooms would make the average wardrobe look spacious. Never mind. I’m too tired to care. And tomorrow, we’re off on a proper tour of the Castle. I think *yawn* Mike’s headed down to the bar. Maybe his waxed hairdo will keep them all amused with his beer-sucking trick…

Hope… it’ll… be… ok…zzzzzzzzzz

Review of Cosmic Crash – Book 2 of The Space Penguins series by L.A. Courtney

Any publication that encourages primary-age children to read and enjoy science fiction is going to get a thumbs-up by me. My granddaughter and I acquired the first two books at the school’s Book Fair, where I was dismayed to see the welter of sugar-pink and purple covers covered with sparkling stars about pets, dolls and fairies intended for girls.

A friendly Year 5 girl nudged Frankie. ‘Look in the Boys section. There’s some cool adventure books there.’

She was right. That was where we found the Space Penguins books, which Frankie scooped up, flicking through the pages. She immediately decided she wanted to take these home because of the enjoyably madcap illustrations.

What’s black and white, and flies faster than the speed of light? The Space Penguins! They’re the ice-cool crew of the spaceship Tunafish. With their pioneering flying skills and resistance to the deep freeze, these intergalactic avians are going where no fin has gone before. Captain T Krill, Rocky Waddle, Fuzz Allgrin and Splash Gordon are on a mission to explore new planets, rescue alien life, and battle their former comrade-in-wings: Dark Wader. Alert! Alert! In Cosmic Crash! the penguins splash-land on a watery planet, they find themselves in the tentacles of a monstrous sea creature. Can they escape with their ship in one piece or are they well and truly sunk?

As you can tell by the blurb, the books are delivered with a stream of puns, shamelessly plugging into science fiction classics with the wordplay around the names of the characters – and using non-stop adventure to keep young readers and listeners hooked. Each of the penguins has well-defined characteristics, and the dialogue had both of us laughing aloud at times – though there were a number of jokes only I got. Though I’m quite comfortable with that as the best children’s books recognise that adults can spend significant chunks of their lives reading stories aloud and reward us accordingly.

I like the premise that NASA decided penguins were better suited to space travel than humans as they can swim through zero gravity without losing control and are far better acclimatised to the cold of deep space. Their ship, the Tunafish is equipped with an extensive supply of frozen fish and a cool onboard computer – and they are ready for the next daft adventure. Is the story believable? Not really – but it features one emergency after another to test the space penguins’ courage and ingenuity. Needless to say, they all emerge with credit – however, they still haven’t managed to evade their nemesis, former crew member Dark Wader, which sets up the team for the next adventure in Galaxy Race!, the next book in the series. I don’t think Frankie and I will be waiting for the school book fair before we get hold of it, though…
8/10

The Adventures of Mike and SJ – Episode 3

This thread started on a forum Mike and I shared, when we started playing off each other about this alternative/fantasy persona we each gave ourselves. Since then, we’ve started writing a novel together and Mike has had a number of books published as Michael D. Griffiths (The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part I, The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part II, Eternal Aftermath) while I’ve been busy rewriting several books and establishing my Creative Writing classes at Northbrook College. But though he writes horror and I write sci fi, when we get together, we write… differently! So I thought I’d put a slice of our combined madness on my blog…

 

I don’t know why SJ keeps bugging me about my hair.

I mean didn’t the English invent the mohawk anyway? Once we get to London and see all those punks, SJ will realize that my ‘hawk is actually pretty tame.

Other than the food, London was great. At least at first… I did want to go to the Tower of London and see the Giant’s suit of armor that would actually fit me quite well and also see where my ancestor Prince Griffith, the second to last Real Prince of Wales, fell to his death trying to escape that bastard, King Henry. So yeah, I was excited.

But she, (just like a woman) wanted to see the crown jewels first. I had already seen these with my folks, but I thought I would humor her, even if I did just want to see the weapons and stuff. Everything was going well except the boring part. (Ooo ahh, so shiny…) When I think all the excitement caused me to drift off.

Next thing I know, the alarms are going off and these guys are grabbing me. I looked over and see SJ’s face redder than the swirling security lights. The men kept screaming something about missing rings or something. Half the time I could barely understand these guys and I thought they invented English?

I was searched about 14 times, but when they didn’t find anything they had to let me go. One guy even ran a metal detector over my very trim stomach, but of course found nothing there.

SJ was so freaked we had to leave before seeing the armor or at least I think she was freaked. It is hard to tell how someone is feeling when they are concealing their entire face with a scarf. So now I have been left in an Internet Pub, while SJ, ‘makes a few phone calls.’

I wonder if she will be willing to go to a Punk Rock show with me?

***

What a disaster! We are in SOOOO much trouble…

There we were, admiring the Crown Jewels – I know he’s got this ‘I’m a Yank, you can’t impress me’ attitude, but even Mike was awestruck into stunned silence at the sheer gleaming magnificence of some of those jewels.

When his face goes all waxy again and his hair does that slithering thing. A wax-blobbed lock seems to sort of dissolve as it reaches the glass of the display cabinet – and the next thing, Mike’s hair is waving around inside the display cabinet, fanning out a bit like the tentacles of an anemone. Then this little waxy hand stretches out and a gloopy voice mutters, ‘Ooo, pretty. So shiny.’ It gave me the shivers, I can tell you.

By now, we’re attracting a LOT of attention. A bunch of Chinese tourists are snapping away – even though you’re not s’posed to take pics. I tried thumping Mike a couple of times to snap him out of his trance, but nothing doing. He was gone… All rigid and waxen. That’s when the alarms started. And when I swung round to check out the display cabinet, The Orb was gone. I mean, I sort of caught sight of the diamond-studded cross as Mike’s hair thickened into a wriggling mass as it wrapped around the jewel. The glass shivered and creaked as his hair retracted in a ball – but didn’t break. Meantime, Mike is still out of it, with his head resting against the glass cabinet. And The Orb is gone, as his hair writhes around and settles back into its customary spiky style.

By now, security is swarming all over us. Some child is screaming that the ‘bad man has the jewel hidden in his head.’ And this is when Mike finally comes to – all dopey and protesting his innocence.

Well, that’s our day out down the drain… Rest of the time was spent in a stinky little room where I was searched, every little nook and cranny. And asked over and over what happened. Not that they were very happy with my answers. They must’ve done the same with Mike- though he didn’t say very much about the whole thing. Except complain that he didn’t understand what they were saying. It didn’t help that the security guy interrogating us had a North-country accent thick enough to spread on toast. Never mind Mike having problems understanding what he was saying – I was having a struggle.

Finally, they decided to let us go. Well, as I kept pointing out – if we’ve stolen something, find it and then charge us. I felt horrible walking out of there – so guilty. So I wrapped my scarf around my face, just in case the journalists camped outside covering the sensational disappearance of The Orb, caught sight of us. Aunt Gertrude never misses the News and I’m in enough trouble with her, just now…

As we stagger off toward the nearest Tube station, I get the feeling we are being followed, so I dodge into an Internet Cafe and Mike grumpily follows, complaining that it doesn’t serve beer.  For some reason he seems to think that everywhere has to serve beer or tea.

I’m hoping tomorrow to take him on another outing. Somewhere his hair can’t possibly cause any problems. We’re off to Bovington Tank Museum – what could possibly go wrong, there?

Review of Babylon Steel by Gaie Sebold

I wasn’t totally convinced that I was going to enjoy this Fantastic romp. A female brothel owner cum ex-mercenary isn’t generally my sort of go-to character, but I’d fleetingly met Gaie at Fantasycon and was impressed with her friendly, solid advice, so gave the book a go. I’m mighty glad I did. It certainly brightened up a really dreary week in March.

Babylon Steel, ex-sword for hire, ex… other things, runs The Red Lantern, the best brothel in the city. She’s got elves using sex magic upstairs, S & M in the basement and a large green troll cooking breakfast in the kitchen, and she’d love you to visit, except… She’s not having a good week. The Vessels of Purity are protesting against brothels, girls are disappearing, and if she can’t pay her taxes, Babylon’s going to lose the Lantern. She’d given up the mercenary life, but when the mysterious Darask Fain pays her to find a missing heiress, she has to take the job. And then her past starts to catch up with her in other, more dangerous ways.

Well, reading through the reviews of this book, it seems something of a marmite number – folks either love it or hate it. I loved it.  For starters, I thoroughly enjoyed the genre mash-up – the portals to various worlds happily rubbed shoulders with a medieval city/ancient Egyptian backdrop and there was a strong urban fantasy feel in the tone and writing. Great fun. Sebold also has the skill to pull off a dual narrative, one recounting Babylon’s past as an orphan serving girl who moves on to another, wholly different career – and the other plotline giving us the current slew of adventures that are engrossing our heroine. This structure worked perfectly and had me hooked from the first chapter. I also liked the variety of different races Sebold introduces and the quick-fire pace at which the book progresses.

Niggles? Well, I do think it a shame that Solaris saw fit to make Babylon white-skinned on the cover, when she is several times mentioned as being dark/copper skinned.

The world-building was enjoyable and unfolded through Babylon’s eyes with the fluid, pacy style that Sebold quickly established. This may be her debut novel, but she is clearly an experienced, skilful author, whose future work is firmly on my list of books to look out for. The ending had everything satisfyingly resolved – with a shock at who dies during the climactic action. I got to the final page with a real sense of regret that I’d finished the book and still wanting more. And if you are feeling grumpy and jaded with the current atrocious weather, search out this book and dive in.
9/10

Review of Wizard Undercover – Book 4 of the Rogue Agent series by K.E. Mills

If you happen to come upon this book and you haven’t read the three previous books, The Accidental Sorceror, Witches Incorporated and Wizard Squared – don’t. Go back to the beginning and track down these other books, first. Otherwise there will be a whole raft of asides and references that you will simply miss or find irritating, which would be a real shame.

This is a really interesting fantasy series – it started off quite light with plenty of humour and some sharp-tongued exchanges between the main characters, who nonetheless are very fond of each other. But in the third book of the series, the whole premise takes a left turn into something a whole lot nastier and darker, making Wizard Squared a compelling page-turner. So, can Mills sustain that angst and tension in Wizard Undercover?

Wedding bells are ringing for the constantly battling nations of Splotze and Borovnik and the upcoming royal nuptials could at last put an end to their dangerous hostilities. But in a development that hardly bodes well, one of Gerald’s fellow janitors goes missing – after delivering a dire warning of danger surrounding the marriage treaty. So Gerald must embark on a perilous mission to uncover the troublemakers, before wedded bliss becomes international war. But going undercover isn’t as easy as it looks, even with Melissande and Emmerabiblia for camouflage. Soon Gerald finds himself fighting for his life as well as world peace.

But poor old Gerald is still reeling from his terrible experiences in the previous instalment – should someone still traumatised and possibly unstable be sent out without a suitable recovery time? And if international relations and potential war looms, is that sufficient reason to also risk two spirited young women? These are the kinds of moral questions that confronts Gerald’s devious superior, Sir Alec.

Other than that, we still have the wonderfully bossy Reg, a talking bird who has adopted Gerald and has a frighteningly indepth knowledge of all sorts of gnarly magic – although there are now some uncomfortable issues around Reg, after the fallout from shocking events described in the previous book… There is a love interest between Gerald and his best friend’s sister, Emmerabiblia Markham. However after the last book, where all these characters were confronted with a terrible evil and many of them simply didn’t prevail, there is the after-echo of that experience that still reverberates through this story. I found it added a darker twist that Mills skilfully played on throughout the book.

I was worried that after the last book, I would find this something of an anti-climax, but of course Mills is far too experienced and adept to commit that kind of crime against her readers. While this episode in the series doesn’t hit the same savage climaxes as those in Wizard Squared, there is still plenty of tension and pace as Gerald desperately tries to pinpoint exactly who is creating such vile magic. I also very much appreciated the fact that Mills isn’t minded to roll her adventures blithely forward without showing the battle scars still evident in all her main characters after their terrible experiences. All in all, a great addition to the series which left me wanting more.
8/10

Review of Undead and Unemployed by Mary Janice Davidson

This is one of the fluffier offerings of chic-spec I’ve read. In a sub-genre that generally doesn’t take itself too seriously, this book is more firmly tongue in cheek than most – think Clueless rather than Buffy. For starters, the protagonist is a ditzy blonde with a thing for shoes. Nothing can make Betsy Taylor give up her shoe fetish – not even dying and rising as the new Queen of the Vampires. Only being royally undead doesn’t mean there aren’t still credit card bills to be paid. Luckily, Betsy lands her dream job selling designer shoes at Macy’s Department Store.

But then there’s a string of vampire murders in town and Betsy has to enlist the help of the one vamp who makes her blood boil: the oh-so-sexy Eric Sinclair. Only the last time she ran into Sinclair she accidentally fulfilled an ancient prophesy – and ended up married to him…

Written in first person POV, the story might be fairly light-hearted – but it is well crafted and the character is convincingly dim. Which I find endearing – and I am conscious that writing a stupid heroine isn’t as easy as it might seem, having tried it and thrown the result across the room in disgust…

If I have a niggle, it is that Betsy tends to go on and on about how much she dislikes Eric – while the reader knows that in stories of this type that means that it is a sure thing the pair of them will finally get together. I also found the liberal use of the f-word rather jarring. I realise that swearing and graphic sex scenes are par for the course in a lot of books in this sub-genre. But in this particular story, the swearing just didn’t seem to fit the chirpy and humorous mood – having said that, I’m conscious that I’m older by several decades than the target audience.

But do I celebrate the fact that this book – and a slew of others like it is out there? You bet. If only I’d had this sub-genre to fall back on years ago when I wanted to chill out from the grittier stuff – instead of tired old Mills and Boon! Young women brought up on a diet of quality fantasy want something ‘other’ than the clichéd staples of secretaries dating bosses… nurses dating doctors… in their light romances. And now they have it with vamp chicks strutting around, biting/agonising over human lovers and/or solving murders. The love interest might be just as trite – but at least the heroine is less annoyingly vapid and the hero is less worryingly chauvinistic.

And if your taste runs to this sub-genre, you could do a lot worse than Undead and Unemployed.
7/10

Review of I Shall Wear Midnight by Terry Pratchett

This is the fourth Tiffany Aching book from The Great Man and his thirty-eighth Discworld novel. If you are a fan, then you’re in for a treat – this is classic Pratchett, complete with all the special individual touches we enjoy from this unique author, including the famous footnotes.

Tiffany is older, but Life isn’t getting any easier. She is working flatout in treating the sick – both animal and human, laying out the dead and interceding in local quarrels. In short, the duties of a typically busy witch. It doesn’t help when Roland announces his engagement to a highborn girl with blonde hair and delicate features. Neither does it help when the Nac MacFeegle, who insist on shadowing her every move, decide that she needs their help. Because something has been awakened. Something foul smelling and evil – something that moves amongst people and turns them against witches. Once more, it is down to Tiffany to save the day. But despite the fact that she is older and wiser, there’s every chance she’ll not succeed…

We meet up with a bunch of old friends in this book – the Nac MacFeegle are as hilarious as they ever were; Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg feature as they give Tiffany what help they can; we also meet up with Eskarina Smith, the female wizard who featured in Equal Rites and discover what has happened to her in the intervening years. I got the sense that Pratchett is tying up some dangling ends in this story and saying farewell to some of his most beloved characters.

There are familiar Pratchett themes in this book—the importance of thinking for yourself, rather than accepting what you’re told; of doing the right thing whatever the cost; the notion of community; endeavouring to leave things better than you find them… Which all sound very worthy and rather stodgily dull. But this is Pratchett’s genius—he manages to wrap up such fundamental, worthy ideals in stories that sparkle with wit, humour and adventure. This one is no exception.

And there is, of course, the overarching idea that runs throughout this particular sub-series of the Discworld books – the notion that stories and belief profoundly impact on everyday life, affecting even those who are more sceptical. Pratchett’s contention is that humankind cannot cope with Life on almost any level, without overlaying it with a veneer of the mystical, amazing and macabre. This theme is embedded in all the Discworld books to some extent – but is at the core of all the Tiffany Aching books, as Tiffany is the sceptical one who is frequently amazed at the lengths people will go to preserve their ideas and beliefs. The myths that have grown up around Miss Treason are an amusing example.

Pratchett has a wide cast of characters that people the Discworld, but I suspect Tiffany is one of his favourites. She certainly is probably his most lovable heroine, with her unassuming courage and strong common sense. I don’t believe there are any more Tiffany Aching books planned – and if this is, indeed, the very last one, then Pratchett has completed the series on a suitably strong note.
10/10

Review of Yellow Blue Tibia by Adam Roberts

I picked this book off the library shelf (something I won’t get to do much longer, if the Government and local councils have their way…) because I thought the cover intriguingly different.

Konstantin Andreiovich Skvorecky was one of a group of Russion SF writers called together by Josef Stalin in 1946. Stalin, convinced that the defeat of America was only a few years away, needed a new enemy for Communism to unite against. Skvorecky and the others were tasked with creating a convincing alien threat; a story of imminent disaster that could be told to the Soviet peoples.

And then after many months of diligent work the writers were told to stop and, on pain of death, to forget everything. Little is known of what happened to the writers subsequently but in 1986, Skvorecky made a dramatic reappearance at Chernobyl claiming that everything that he and the others had written was coming true. His assertion was widely disbelieved but Skvorecky claimed (tastelessly many believe) that the Chernobyl disaster and the destruction of the Challenger space shuttle conformed to the pattern set by Stalin’s scenario. Skvorecky believes that alien invasion is ongoing.

I’d not come across Roberts’ work before, but it didn’t take long to realise that this chap can write. Narrated in Skvorecky’s first person viewpoint, the character is beautifully realised – right down to the odd Russian contradictions such as his (completely understandable) world-weary cynicism, along with the touching belief in love. The book recounts Skvorecky’s adventures leading up to the Chernobyl disaster and how an encounter with a couple of American Scientologists changed his life.

Roberts deftly portrays a Russia suffering a crisis of confidence with everyone scrabbling to cope with Gorbachev’s cataclysmic changes involving perrestoika against a backdrop of crumbling Communism. It isn’t a pretty picture – especially filtered through the viewpoint of an aging, burnt out ex-alcoholic. By rights it should be unremittingly grim enough to make the likes of Dan Simmons and Roger Levy look pink n’fluffy in comparison. However Roberts leavens the underlying awfulness of his subject matter and backdrop by dollops of humour, to the extent there are laugh-aloud moments in this book. I found myself chuckling during Skvorecky’s interrogation when the official questioning him gets in a muddle as to when the tape is turned off and on…

The book veers from moments of acute danger, high farce and reflections on the dreadful circumstances within a couple of pages without jolting the reader out of the story. It takes a writer at the height of his powers to pull this off. And Roberts really does flex his ‘show off’ muscle in this book – the narrative voice denoting English as a second language, complete with amusing puns and odd confusions; Skvorecky’s entirely believable transformation from a miserably cynical has-been to someone a lot more hopeful and proactive; the swooping changes of mood from moments of high drama to farce… But then, if I could write like this, I’d probably be performing the literary equivalent of dizzying pirouettes, too.

Interestingly, science fiction as a genre and belief system comes under close examination in the book, right from when Stalin decides that aliens should make the next unifying threat to keep Mother Russia together. Skvorecky maintains his belief throughout that alien abductions and spaceships do not exist – that even when he was a respected science fiction author, he did not believe in such things. Science fiction becomes a metaphor for a population’s credulous belief in things without any proper foundation. Or does it? Roberts plays the sorts of games with the reader that we are more used to seeing from the literary end of the spectrum, such as providing us with an unreliable narrator. Generally I have limited patience with such gimmicks – but then they are often employed by authors who don’t possess Roberts’ skill and humour.

Any niggles? Nope. Not a single one. I’ve read reviews that have grumbled that some of the interesting issues raised in the book are not fully developed – but that’s FINE with me. This is a piece of fiction designed to entertain. In addition, Roberts has also chosen to give us food for thought along the way – what he didn’t do was to hold up the narrative pace to extend those reflections beyond their use in the story. A writer that – despite his stylist flourishes – puts the needs of the reader above his own hubris. Hallelujah! In short (in case it’s already escaped your attention) I think that this is a superb, funny, sharp read by a clever author who knows exactly where he’s going… Go on – track it down, you be thanking me if you do. And if you’re scratching your head about the odd title – apparently the Russian phrase Ya lyublyU tebyA, meaning I love you, sounds roughly like yellow, blue tibia.
10/10

Review of The Fuller Memorandum – Book 3 of The Laundry series by Charles Stross

This account is narrated as a debrief by the longsuffering Bob Howard, who works for the undercover British agency known as The Laundry. They are a down-at-heel, typically Brit-bodge version of the Men in Black, busy battling with nasty occult occurrences and alien incursions. Bob is trying to come to terms with the emotional fallout after his latest hair-raising adventure.

A top secret dossier goes missing. At the same time, Angleton, Bob’s boss disappears. No one is saying very much at The Laundry but suspicion, like mud, sticks. While struggling to clear his own name and Angleton’s tarnished reputation, Bob also has to cope with over-helpful Russian agents, worries about an apocalyptic cult targeting his wife – and the trail of dead bodies. What is so important about the missing Fuller Memorandum and why is everyone who knows dying…?

Told in first person viewpoint, this spy horror clips along with all the zest and ink-black humour of the previous books in the series. Poor old Bob has to put up with a lot, and his world-weary, humorous commentary gives this book an extra twist of enjoyment. Stross evidently has great affection for Bond films and H.P. Lovecraft’s fiction, because he borrows elements from both these influences and mixes them in a neat combination that has you chuckling while your skin pimples… It is a uniquely disturbing and memorable reading experience.

The world works wonderfully well and Stross skilfully plays with the tedium of Bob’s everyday office life set against the dangerous nature of his job. So the knowledge that we are on the verge of being invaded by some ghastly alien power vies with the notion that all paperclip movement needs to be strictly monitored because they become imprinted with traces of the documents they fasten… The book teeters on the edge of farce and horror all the way to the suitably horrific climax.

Stross is no slouch at characterisation, either. Mo, Bob’s intrepid and very accomplished wife, is beautifully drawn. But Angleton, Bob’s mysterious boss, is the true star of this tale and Bob’s viewpoint of him, along with his understandable resentment as a subordinate, is compelling enough to draw us in and make us care – very important in this story.

Any grizzles? Well… I’m being ultra-picky here – but in a genre where pace is everything, there were instances where I felt Bob’s doom-laden monologues could have done with being pruned back for the sake of keeping the tension wound sufficiently tight. But, overall, it is a trifling detail. I think this book is a triumph. If you’re feeling a bit jaded and looking for something truly different, then look no further. You won’t pick anything else off the shelves quite like this, I guarantee it.
4.5 stars