Before They Are Hanged

Trying to review the middle book of a trilogy mirrors, I suspect, writing that second book. Before They Are Hanged, the second book in Joe Abercrombie's The First Law series, attempts to perform a delicate balancing act between the trope-busting first book and what is to follow—developing the story and characters constructively without appearing to have a middle book just to milk sales. Often, the middle book is awkward, not being the beginning or the end, especially when the overall plan is to have essentially a novel in three parts instead of a series that grows organically (like, for instance, the Foundation series). Fortunately, Before They Are Hanged does not suffer overly from Jan Brady syndrome.

To recap where we are at the end of the first novel: The Union is at war with its northern neighbors, its southernmost city appears to be on the verge of attack from its southern neighbors, and a quest has been put together by a magician to find the epic item that will save The Union from certain doom. Note that I'm synopsizing with tongue in cheek, in part to keep from revealing spoilers about the lovely first novel and to set up what I am going to say about the second novel; nonetheless, that one-sentence review is accurate. In that first novel, The Blade Itself, Abercrombie spends a great deal of time developing characters and apparently not worrying so much about the plot of the book. The second novel reveals that appearances can be deceiving, and that the fairly formulaic plot of the first book just lays the groundwork for some unexpected twists later on.

Before They Are Hanged still relies heavily on characterization, as the chapters' point of view alternates among a number of the main characters in the novel. Abercrombie gives each of them an individual voice, an individual way of seeing their world. As a result, the readers' view of that world is probably much clearer than it would be otherwise. We know that the Union is not a good place, merely a better place than the alternatives being offered by its neighbors. Similarly, we note that the characters are well-rounded, having both handsome and ugly traits—none of the perfect specimens from classic epic fantasy need apply: these are people with good and bad traits all about them. There is still the upward movement of some of the characters that can be found from epic fantasy—generally speaking, some of the characters seem to be on the path to becoming more likable and heroic, but it is not a startling change, happening slowly as a response to their environments rather than as a life-changing epiphany. Jezal begins this second book just as much a pompous ass as he was in The Blade Itself, but events and other characters act on him to make him realize his life is not a good one despite its trappings. Sometimes Abercrombie is a bit heavy-handed with this conversion—explicitly stating that it is happening rather than letting the novel show it—but it is far more delicately handled than in the usual epic fantasy. In fact, that there is any movement at all is something of an irregularity, and Abercrombie is downright delicate in comparison to most other novels that make an attempt.

Similarly, the relatively minor character Ferro makes some progress in her ability to have dealings with other people, almost against her will. When the novel uses her as its point of view, she seems nearly split in half, trying to figure out why her body is acting in a way that is completely different from the way she thinks about the people around her. She still thinks of them in horrible terms, but she acts more like a companion with them, betraying her thoughts…or perhaps belying them. And that equivocation is a balancing point, one of the many in the novel, from which my delight in this novel hangs. Similarly, Glokta finds himself doing things for all the right reasons and constantly upbraiding himself for being so stupid as to think he should care what anyone thinks, as though he is becoming a better person despite himself.

In the long run, this movement is a little troublesome—seeming to indicate to me that the book will end up with everyone being in a happy place and better than they were when the series started. And that would be disappointing, given how well the bad characters are drawn. There seems to be, if I may be so generic, four ways a character is developed in the course of a novel. A good character remains good, a good character goes bad, a bad character goes good, and a bad character remains bad. Usually, the bad character remaining bad is the province of the antagonists of the epic fantasy and has come to be expected. But it is rare to see bad characters being protagonists that I fervently hope Abercrombie chooses the least likely path for a protagonist, that we don't like him and by the end of the series, we still wouldn't care to meet him. Making—and keeping—your protagonists unlikeable is a neat trick.

But it's the movement of the plot that really set Before They Are Hanged apart from the standard tropes. I'm struggling hard not to reveal spoilers, so I apologize for the generic statement to follow: it simply does not go anywhere I have seen a fantasy novel go. I was blown away by the climax of a major plotline. All the plotlines maintain my interest and make me think about the novel and genre in delightful ways, but one of the three main ones…just wow. I'm already tearing up the third book to find out the repercussions of that twist.

And therein lies the best recommendation I can give: Before They Are Hanged made me desperately want to read the next book. Second best: it also makes me want to take time off from work to finish it.

Batman: The Brave and the Bold

Mrs. Speculator recently suggested that I review this show, new to the Cartoon Network this season. I realized I haven't written much about TV recently, and agreed that this is well worth talking about.

Batman: The Brave and the Bold comes from an impressive tradition of DC animated TV shows, from the spectacular early run of Batman: The Animated Series to the whimsical Teen Titans to the powerful Justice League and Justice League Unlimited. At Comic-con this past summer, the show's creators talked about trying to come out of that tradition with something fresh and yet feeling the pressure of all the acclaim those earlier shows rightfully earned. They decided to return to a more fun Batman, one who is less dark and willing to work with partners, and thus find the hook to pull viewers in. The art style is much more Dick Sprang, with blocky bodies and faces almost always decorated with grins. This Batman (voiced by Diedrich Bader) splits his time fighting evil and helping to train a wide range of partners, from the new Blue Beetle to Kamandi. Just choosing Bader was a risk, since moving away from what has become the iconic voice of Batman for nearly two decades, Kevin Conroy, could easily cause potential viewers to decide that this is not the "real" Batman. But Bader is a good choice, just adding some panache to the expected dark voice, lightening the mood considerably. In some episodes, Batman needs help and thus calls the more experienced heroes to his side, such as Green Arrow, thus making him less omnipotent and more accessible. In other episodes he works with heroes with less experience fighting crime, such as Plastic Man and the aforementioned Blue Beetle/Jaime Reyes, teaching them what it means to be a hero.

The episodes are generally brightly colored and filled with action. As yet we have not seen the Batcave, forcing Batman into the light of day, and making him a happier character by implication. Batman has also fought beneath the sea and on other planets, so the stories have moved beyond the marauding vigilante that The Animated Series relied on (not that there is anything wrong with that version of Batman—it was just hyper-focused on a single aspect of a character with a huge history). And the creators are well aware of their DC History; I really like that Batman and Green Arrow have an ongoing competition about who is the better crimefighter. Batman even remarks to Green Arrow that he has stolen pretty much every good idea he has from Batman: an Arrowplane, an Arrowcare, even a kid sidekick—"I bet you even have an Arrowcave." But the connoisseur of continuity may grow uneasy with some of the changes for the sake of storytelling. For instance, the Outsiders are a teen gang that Wildcat takes under his wing. And Batman has a wide array of implements in his utility belt made of nth metal…the better to fight magical foes (he even has a sword in his utility belt, but he has to take the belt off to get to the hidden sheath). But these are really minor quibbles from a viewer outside the primary audience. These shows are meant to be kid-friendly and –accessible, introducing them to the characters as though for the first time, perhaps in an attempt to get them to start reading the comics. Of course, if they picked up the current Batman titles, they would be completely lost, but that's another post.

But not everything that the creators have changed works well. One trait that this new Batman shows that is really annoying is a propensity for internal monologue—we get to hear his thoughts on a variety of subjects. This is generally outside the structure of current American animation, and if it is used, it is generally only for effect, but this show seems to rely on it. What's worse, it's not handled well, feeling horribly clunky and even condescending to the viewer, not really disguising that it is a crutch for a story where the characters actions can't be shown so much as explained. It also assumes the viewer can't figure out what's happening without the aid, which is not an admission a good storyteller should ever want to make. In some ways, it would have made more sense for The Animated Series to use the monologue, since Batman is most often alone in that series. But especially in this case, where he is almost always on screen with a partner, the internal monologue is just a distraction.

The other weakness is distressing, given it is one of the main points of continuity between this show and the ones that went before. Animated DC shows have had brilliant voice casting, led by voice director Andrea Romano. It was she who picked Kevin Conroy for Batman and Clancy Brown for Lex Luthor. And her selections over the years have been nearly flawless; I honestly can't remember a voice that just did not feel appropriate for the character being portrayed…I mean Efrem Zimbalist as Alfred is just brilliant. But The Brave and the Bold isn't nearly so good mostly because the voices aren't as distinctive. For isntance, Aquaman is just horrible. Arguably, the writing of Aquaman is pretty bad as well and Romano is just finding a voice to match the persona that the creators asked for. As he is written in the show, Aquaman is a pompous blowhard, not interested in doing good for the sake of good but rather for the adventure associated with the fight…and the legends that will follow. He is not very smart—on the verge of being stupid. The sad part is that the brilliant John Di Maggio plays Aquaman and plays him even more over the top. Again, this may be the choice of the creators, but it makes the episodes with Aquaman decidedly hard to watch. And Di Maggio is a bright star in animation right now, up there with Billy West. Another example is using Will Friedle as Blue Beetle. Again, Friedle has a lot of experience, giving the Terry McGiniss in Batman Beyond a voice that can be remembered outside the TV show. But Jaime Reyes is so whitebread it's easy to imagine he isn't Hispanic at all, which goes against everything t he character is supposed to be about. Even Tom Kenny, the voice of SpongeBob Squarepoints, falls short as Plastic Man.

One saving grace for the show is the use of a wide range of characters. Already we've seen Gentleman Ghost, Despero and Chemo as villains, and heroes such as B'wana Beast, Dr. Fate and Elongated Man. That alone is pretty much worth the price of admission. I'll definitely be looking forward to the second season, but I really hope that the voices get better, or that the creators allow the actors to play a bigger part in making the characters to stand out.

Science Fiction Hall of Fame, Volume 1

This is a pick for my book group, so this post will be necessarily short.

I've owned this wonderful collection for more than 20 years, since I took a science fiction course and an undergraduate in college. However, I had always cherry-picked through it, starting with my teacher's selections from it, so this was the first time I have read it from cover to cover. The premise is pretty standard: Robert Silverberg polled members of the SFWA and collected their picks as the best science fiction short stories from 1938 to 1964, then collected their votes into a single volume. There were some interesting rules associated with the collection, like no author could have more than one story in the collection. And beyond the top votegetters, Silverberg padded the collection with his own picks to give the volume 21 entries.

One of the strengths of the collection is its organization, putting them in chronological order rather than by number of votes. In this way, the reader can see the progression of themes and ideas through the best of the genre. Interestingly, the collection has lived well past its basis, such that the early winners—who may have been household names in science fiction circles when the book was first published—are distant, both chronologically and philosophically. The second highest ranked short story, Stanley Weinbaum's "A Martian Odyssey" suffers from this issue; it is clearly very weak in comparison to the rest of the collection. It is simplistic and shallow—shallow really, and it really has no thematics to speak of. Curious, I went off and did some research, finding that the story is generally accepted as the first story in which aliens are truly alien; not only do they not look like us, but their thought processes are different from human, forcing part of the story to be an attempt on the part of the humans to understand the alien Tweel. Now, I am partial to the groundbreakers, enjoying reading the stories that first went into places that are now almost clichéd, but I had to go outside the book to find out why the story was selected. And so I dearly wish that Silverberg, or someone after the fact, wrote a few paragraphs about why each story was selected, relieving the reader of trying to figure out "why" and instead basking in the achievement of early science fiction

The other clunker for me is a huge surprise—Richard Matheson's "Born of Man and Woman." I have always thought highly of Matheson's work, most of my exposure being to the episodes he wrote or adapted for The Twilight Zone. But I recently read I am Legend and had some feeling for his strength as a writer of books alongside his reputation as a screenwriter. "Born of Man and Woman" is extremely short, less than three full pages, but it thuds to an unsatisfying conclusion. Its main character is an enigma, suffering terribly from some sort of ailment that causes his parents to hide him from the neighborhood. It is unclear if the character is a child or an adult who thinks childishly, nor is it clear what his handicap is, though there are some clues given. The only impressions that come out of the story are his inability to comprehend why his family treats him so despicably and the despair his parents feel, filtered as it is through the eyes of the narrator. If that was the goal of the story, to express the despair of all the characters, it succeeds, but it is unfulfilling for the reader. It could well be that "Born of Man and Woman" is equally as groundbreaking as "A Martian Odyssey" but if so I don't know what ground it breaks. Post-apocalyptic freaks perhaps? I just can't figure it out.

So out of 21 stories, only two really fell flat for me, an astonishing percentage and a testament to how powerful a collection this is. Nearly every story is vibrant and rich, astonishing in some facet of crafterly writing, and often in a number of them. It also suggests some interesting thought experiments, such as what would happen if the SFWA were to do this again, with its larger more contemporary membership? Would any of the stories still be in the collection (I can name two three or four that just can't be left out—"The Cold Equations," "The Nine Billion Names of God," "Nightfall")? What if the SFWA expanded the range, from 1938 to the present? I wonder if a few well-addressed letters could convince the SFWA to take on any of these polls. In the end, though, this is just a superior collection of writing—a must-have for anyone who considers themselves to be a fan of science fiction. I'd even go so far as to say it should be read regularly, not less than once ecvery couple of years.

Judas Unchained

Epic in scope, epic in length, but not remotely epic in execution. Judas Unchained is essentially the second part of a two-volume novel, by Peter F. Hamilton. I recognize that one of the weaknesses of the novel stems from having read the first part more than three years ago, and so the cast of hundreds was as much as unfamiliar to me as I encountered them again. There was a nice list of characters in the front of the book but it, of course, lacked detail so as not to accidentally give spoilers to readers flipping through the book. But I was reminded of Irwin Allen movies as I read: you would think as one-dimensional as the characters were that I could have remembered them over time. With such a broad cast, Hamilton necessarily did not spend a lot of time developing them so that they often became clichés of themselves, sounding one note at every appearance.

Since the novel combines aspects of first contact novels with first alien war, the potential is there for a fascinating story. Hamilton also does a nice job of creating a fairly alien antagonist species, the Primes, a hive mind with rabid xenophobic tendencies. As a result, as the war goes on, there is the question of genocide—since the Primes are willing to destroy the entirety of the human race, should humans feel the same way? But it is only hinted at, with strong emotions on either side of the question, but no discussion of the issues beyond "If we do it, we will have lost our soul!" But that's a fairly thin argument when it comes to killing or being killed as Hamilton sets up the premise through more than 90% of the novel. And at the last moment he provides an escape so that the question can be avoided…but consider how fascinating a novel dealing with the repercussions of having to destroy an entire race could be, especially considering contemporary affairs and politics.

One interesting detail is how far humans have advanced (or not advanced, depending on your point-of-view) in his world history. Humans have developed classic wormhole technology as it is usually presented in speculative fiction, but they take advantage of it by running railroad tracks up to the entrances to the wormholes. On the one hand, this seems a fairly practical application of the technology, but it is also horribly retro. Technology has allowed for the world-wide net to grow to include these other worlds as data is passed back and forth through permanently open wormholes, but unlike the singularity that cutting edge writers envision, humans use it to fulfill their worst desires—more and more explicit scripted reality television, soap operas with total sensory input. Spacecraft can travel at speeds faster than the speed of light, but people still drive Toyotas. It's a strange dichotomy, especially considered in parallel with the genocide question—advancement as a civilization is not even, technology apparently outpaces ethical development. But these issues are all secondary to a fairly standard space opera (that actually doesn't have much space in it for a 2000-page novel). And that space opera isn't particularly well-written nor ground-breaking. Again, the Irwin Allen analogy comes to mind—this would have been great beach-reading or good for something to read while flying—but once you've finished it, nothing much stays with you.

One of my worst vices is the movie The Rock. I recognize that it's an action flick with very little going on but big explosions. Nonetheless, whenever I find it, I'll watch at least part of it, mostly because it makes me smile…it's a lot of silly fun with a huge soundtrack. It doesn't have pretensions of anything more than it is, and it does that part well. Fortunately, it only takes up about two hours of my time. Judas Unchained wants to be more than that and just fails at the attempt. It's a fun read, but I'll never find myself wanting to read it again.

Final Crisis

I was all set to write something about this series, and especially the last issue, when I began reading Stephen Grant's always-delightful Permanent Damage. And in the first two paragraphs of his article, he sums up my feelings completely--including geometry deficiency. I'll quote the first few lines of it here, but you really should go read the whole thing at http://comicbookresources.com/?page=article&id=19863.

So FINAL CRISIS finally gave up the ghost last week, collapsing a
universe of plot threads into a chaotic black hole of crushed data bits, and
triggering a flood of back and forth online excoriations and defenses,
condemnation and praises that all (at least what I read) missed the single
salient, unassailable fact of FINAL CRISIS #7:

It's gibberish.

The good news is that I finally have finished reading my latest book and have been composing in my head for the last 100 pages of the book. Pent up critical juices are trying to escape. It could be interestig.