Agent 6 by Tom Rob Smith

I was a huge fan of Tom Rob Smith's debut novel, Child 44.  I thought it was a great suspense novel, doing just about everything right.

That's why I was horribly crushed when I read this book, and found that it did just about everything wrong, from the book blurb to the pacing to the dialog, particularly the internal monologues.

Generally speaking, I don't tend to write about books I did not care for, as I only have a certain amount of time to write, and why talk about things you don't think others should read?  But in this case, I'm making an exception because I really had a lot of strong thoughts on this one, driven primarily by my disappointment, given Child 44 was one of my favorite books from a few years ago.

Let's start with the book blurb and the problems it creates for the book itself.  The blurb spoils all sense of surprise by stating baldly that Leo's family is "destroyed" and he must seek revenge.  Way to spoil things for me--and anyone else reading it.  Now there's no surprise involved in what's going to happen--a major part of a suspense novel.  I'm not in suspense anymore, because I know that Leo's going to be driven by a tragedy.

If you're going to do that, fine, but that means it's essential that the book get to that point and show Leo, the protagonist, on a mad revenge spree that takes up the majority of the book.

Unfortunately, that's not what happens.  The tragedy is withheld until almost halfway through the book, leaving the characters as dead people walking.  I kept waiting for something, anything to happen, and was disappointed over and over again.  By the time the tragedy does happen, it's underplayed, with almost no drama involved.  It was about as matter of fact as giving the weather, and while I was sad for the characters involved, I wasn't given a body blow.

What took so long?  Well, in what became a disturbing trend for the book, Smith opts to spend pages upon pages to give his political spin on the politics in both Russia and the United States during the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s.  Unlike in Child 44, where these moments were tied crucially to what was happening in the narrative, such as trying to hide in the shadows of the Soviet State or the desire to avoid actual crime, this book goes off on tangents again and again.  I don't think a dissertation on the racist, homophobic, and classist nature of Hoover's FBI added anything to the book, especially since there's no payoff for it.  A short passage, sure.  But pages and pages of comments and examples?  This happens over and over in the first section of the book, and it really dulled the impact of the action.

I had high hopes once we got to the main event, as Leo was proven to be a character of great resolve.  Time to see him break a conspiracy to the State--and his family!--one more time.

Nope.

Instead, Smith makes one of the worst mistakes an author can do--he tells instead of shows.  Leo's post-tragedy actions are either glossed over or given a short flashback piece, and the next thing we know, he's a drug-addled fop living off his reputation in Afghanistan.  How did he come to this?  What broke him?  That's only worth a few dozen pages, because instead Smith needs to describe in detail the problems of Soviet-controlled Afghanistan so he can beat the reader over the head with a comparison to the situation in the troubled nation today.  It's obvious that Smith thinks that being in Afghanistan is wrong, but instead of using his name to write a non-fiction book or essays, he's thinly disguised his opinion in this narrative, dragging it down even further.

As we stop by every bullet point Smith wants to hit in his tour of Afghanistan, Leo is pushed to the side in favor of a paper-thin antagonist in the form of a ruthless Soviet Captain and a young Afghan woman who gives up her family for the Communist cause.  They talk about everything from the difficulty of an occupation to killing civilians to the major misogyny of a society where woman are treated poorly, even when they could serve as a national rallying cry.  We get this instead of, say, Leo's daring attempt to escape the Soviet Union or his search for the man who deceived his adoptive daughter.

Long paragraphs about religious fervor or the deadly determination of those using terror to take their country back are far more interesting that the intrigue of slipping across a border, you see.

The topper for this is that when we do get any action sequences, Leo's barely involved.  He might get a few good lines here and there, but most of it is instinct, not daring do, as we saw before.  I get that Leo's supposed to be a broken man, but because we didn't *see* the break, I'm not impressed or in agreement.  This isn't Leo for me, this is some other man.  Had Smith taken the time to show me why Leo is so impotent, I might have swallowed it better, but the few lines thrown in and the sketchy backstory didn't do it for me.  As a result, I'm left waiting and waiting for Leo to show himself.

The whole Afghanistan sequence is a big political screed that seems to paint most of Afghanistan as a country best left alone to its fanatics (there are no moderates shown, as the outliers are all quickly killed or given flimsy reasons like love for their challenging the accepted paradigms), as though the people there could never be as good as Westerners.  In trying to show why fighting in Afghanistan is a bad idea, Smith makes the people there seem like savages.  It's really sad, actually, because I don't think that was the intent.  However, I don't see anything that counters that view of the Afghan people.

Through a huge coincidence, we get Leo back to America for the climax of the story.  He's a bit better here, being devious and active again, and back on track.  Leo turns over every rock he can to get to the truth of the tragedy, once and for all.  The key is a character we saw early on, which is a good sign.  I was ready for the big finish...except it wasn't.

In the end, the tragedy's payoff is that it's so minor.  Something so important to Leo has almost no value to the State or anyone else.  He and his family are just one more statistic, which I could have accepted, except that it took so long to get there, having the ending peter out like this, with Leo getting answers but not satisfaction, really bothered me.  I needed it to be huge, to justify all the pages of padding we got to get there.  Instead, I had an answer that really did not require most of the hundreds of pages to tell.  Almost all of it--including the entire Afghanistan digression--was unnecessary, because the truth was already told.

By the end of the story, Leo is defeated, his last card played.  He limps to the finish, in chains, at the mercy of those who have no need to show it.  It's a metaphor for the book itself, which meanders across the world but never manages to excite the reader.  The book doesn't really finish, it ends.  Neither Leo nor I am entirely happy with what's at the end of this road, and that's a big problem for me as a reader.  I should be feeling like I had a big payoff, but instead, I just felt cheated.  The only suspense was "When is this over?" and had I not committed myself too far by the time I got to the tragedy, I'd have given up on this one and probably been the better for it.

I highly recommend Child 44, but stay far away from this extremely political book that has a loose story around it.  Regardless of my agreement with Smith's views on racial and class issues, a book of fiction must stand on its own merits as a story.  This one falls on its face, as futile as Leo's life becomes for the bulk of the story.  A suspense novel needs to keep me guessing and keep me on the edge of my seat.  This one had me frustrated, bored, and angry.  I though I had a new author to follow but after this, I think I will pass.  You should, too.

10 Days of Halloween Horror Day 8: You Can Beat a Classic

Welcome to Day Eight of the 10 Days of Halloween Horror 2011!  We'll be featuring horror-related reviews right up until the big day!  You can find the Halloween Horror posts for Panel Patter here, and don't forget to check out the Book Stew for book-book horror, too!

I recently got out an audio book of classic ghost stories, a sampling of public domain stories from names both familiar (Charles Dickens, Rudyard Kipling, Saki) and unfamiliar, at least to me.  The production value was top notch, with a venerable Brit providing the narration in a variety of tones and voices.  Unfortunately, however, I wasn't impressed with the stories themselves.  They felt extremely antiquated, slow-paced, and generally bored me more than thrilled me.

This came as quite a shock to me, because in the past, I found these gothic-style stories to be quite enjoyable.  as recently as Summer 2009 I was singing the praises of Dracula.  But I noticed upon re-reading some Poe that I was kinda non-plussed, and last year, I barely made it through a classic ghost story I'd downloaded for my nook.  This neutral attitude towards the classic ghost stories collection is part of a pattern:  I'm just not into old horror in the way that I used to be.

This isn't necessarily a bad thing.  Tastes change over time.  I think I've probably read too many Stephen King books by now (and other novels that move quickly) to appreciate the slow-building horror that comes from the older writers.  Perhaps I'm just losing my attention span, as I find myself more pressed for time.  Get to the gruesome details, because I have ten other things to do today, you know?

I'm not sure that's true, though, because I still enjoy a classic horror film.  Slow-pacing is okay for me, but it has to have a powerful set-up.  If I can tell what is going on a mile away--and in the case of a lot of the classic horror I've read lately, that was exactly the problem--then I'm just not interested.  I think the reason I prefer newer horror, as long as it doesn't involve excessive violence, is that it either gets to the point quickly or the build-up is worth it.

At the end of the day, I think I may stop trying to read classic horror for awhile.  Let it sit for a bit. It's certainly not going anywhere.  How about you?  Still reading the old school stuff, or have you moved on?

Monsters Caught on Film by Dr. Melvyn Willin

Welcome to Day Four of the 10 Days of Halloween Horror 2011!  We'll be featuring horror-related reviews right up until the big day!  You can find the Halloween Horror posts for Panel Patter here, and don't forget to check out the Book Stew for book-book horror, too!

I've always been fascinated by the idea of monsters existing in the real world.  Maybe it was part of my interest in dinosaurs or reading comic books from an early age or watching horror movies a few years too early.  The answer is lost to time, like some of the legendary beasts captured in this book.  Regardless, my ears always perk up at the news of a sighting of Bigfoot, a Yeti, or the various lake creatures that dot the world, allegedly of course.

(I think I should add "In Search of..." to that list of things that spurred my interest, come to think of it.  Who can argue with Mr. Spock?)

When I saw this book on the shelf at the library, I simply had to grab it.  I haven't really followed the legendary creature genre for awhile, so I was curious to see what the internet age had done to the myths I'd grown up with.

If this book is any indication, time has not been kind to the idea of beasts not on your biology test.  Thanks to the ability to Photoshop just about anything, it's possible for anyone with time on their hands to craft a beastie, fog the picture up, and claim it to be original--as long as you "lose" the negative, of course.  As a result, this book trips over itself talking about how so many of the photos included in the book are likely to be fake.  Dr. Willin's solution to this problem is to add something along the lines of "Wouldn't it be cool if this were real?" to the bulk of the entries, and after awhile, that gets old.

While this book does have a lot of interesting pictures, many of them are the same ones I've seen hundreds of times, and the new ones are, if anything, worse in quality than their predecessors.  A section on wild beasts has blurrier photos than when the news reports on television about a celebrity porn video.  Other pictures are blatant forgeries, such as the models of a T-Rex taking down a rhino, but they are mixed in with screen captures that might just be real.  There is no clear separation between the impossible and the plausible, leading me to believe that the author is entirely too skeptical to be the collator of a work like this.  Despite protestations to the contrary, Dr. Willin seems not to regard anything in here as true, with the exception of real "monsters" like the Portuguese Man of War or the Komono Dragon. It would be like me trying to put together a book on Scientology--my credibility in their beliefs is so small that I'd never be able to make the work seem passable to someone who even at least partially gives credit to their faith.

When it comes to things like UFOs or mythical creatures or ghosts, I remain open-minded but generally doubtful.  It seems like Dr. Willin has a similar opinion, but ironically, I think books like this are best-served in the hands of true believers.  While their opinions may be wrong, they have a seriousness that Monsters Caught on Film lacks.  The tone is just wrong, keeping the reader from really getting into the idea of things like Nessie actually being real.  In addition, the use of verified creatures confuses things too much for my taste.  If you are looking for books about urban legend creatures, there are better ones out there.  If you really do believe in Bigfoot, then give this work a berth wider than that of an alleged yeti footprint.

Scandalous Women by Elizabeth Kerri Mahon

I kinda pride myself on being a bit ahead of the curve when it comes to knowing things about what I like to call hidden history, a term coined by someone smarter than me for the parts of the past that don't tend to make it into school textbooks, or even the History Channel. I'd like to think I work hard on this, but then I read a book like Scandalous Women, which reminds me that no matter how progressive you might think you are, there's always parts of the historical narrative that only the most dedicated researchers can find.

That's certainly the case with this book, in which Mahon turns her blog into a book, hoping to catch people with this eye-grabbing title and maybe help them learn something. She does so not by trying to be neutral or present people in a good light. Instead, like any good internet writer, this book is filled with snark, pithy remarks (like how Anne Boleyn made King Henry VIII put a ring on it), and a frank discussion of the good and bad traits of her subjects.

The title itself is a bit of a misnomer. While some of these women certainly are notorious, I'm not sure that Amelia Earhart counts as scandalous. Of course, "Women You Should Know" just doesn't have the same ring to it. There is definitely an emphasis on sex in the book, even for those who were not really known for their sexual escapades. While the book seems to chastise the contemporaries of these women for focusing on their bedroom habits, it seems to me that Mahon has, to some degree, done the same thing. It does get monotonous at certain points, especially as the book progresses into 19th and 20th century women, where we know more of their relationship history. I know the idea is to heighten the scandal part of their lives, but sometimes I felt like I was intruding where I didn't belong in reading about their love affairs. Perhaps that's just me.

Where the book shines is in highlighting women who should be in their own spotlight, rather than hugging the shadows of a more famous man, such as Eleanor of Aquitaine or Emiie du Chatelet or even Bolelyn. There are also some interesting women who have similar male analogs who strike me as a lot more compelling, like Boudica or Calamity Jane (whose real story would make a great modern Western) or Ida B Wells-Barnett or the pirate lady team of Anne Bonney and Mary Read.

Some of these women were familiar to me, but others, Wells-Barnett in particular, deserve to have their story told on a wider stage. I'm sure there are biographies for these folks, but we need to get them into the wider consciousness, which means movies or at least a reference in a textbook. What Scandalous Women does well is gives readers a starting point. You could spend years reading about each of these women and not lack for quality material to study. The fact that Mahon did this for a blog, without pay, makes it all the more incredible.

Scandalous Women is very much a modern history book. I appreciate the fresh writing but those looking for a more scholarly approach will be disappointed. If, on the other hand, you want to learn a bit more about women who are just as important in history, such as a contemporary of Rodin that might have been his better or a woman who refused to let getting impaled prevent her from art and lovers, then give this book a try. You might even learn something, and even if you don't, I guarantee you'll be entertained!

An Account of the Battle of Wilson's Creek by R. I. Holcombe

This book is part of my 7-year Civil War Challenge, where I read books relating to the part of the Civil War that is 150 years old. 2011 is 1861.

Not entirely satisfied with the other book I read on Wilson's Creek, I reached out into the public domain of Archive.org and found this text, which is smaller, punchier, and ultimately more effective at giving me the details of the battle that certainly made it seem as if Missouri would be lost to the Union in the Civil War.

This text, which was clearly a source for the newer book, was written in 1883 and spends more time trying to get first person accounts of the battle from those who survived, which is why it is a far more engaging read than the drier, more matter of fact Battle of Wilson's Creek book. Holcombe repeatedly discusses his efforts to find facts from those who were there, and as a result, there is far more editorial commentary and criticism, particularly of General McCullouch's bungling that prevented the South from gaining an even more impressive victory.

As in the other book, it's clear the odds were against Lyon and he died trying to do his best with the crappy situation General Fremont (and to an extent, Lincoln) had placed him. This book posited the idea that had Lyon left the Confederates a way to retreat, he might have even won the battle. I doubt this, given the difference in strength, but it was certainly an interesting idea.

The book itself sometimes slips into breathless prose, but ironically, it has a far more modern feel than history texts written around the middle of the 20th Century. I appreciate the commentary and occasional sarcasm, as it is used quite appropriately and keeps things moving when you are discussing troop formations and whatnot. It is especially fun to see Holcombe condemn those who would mar history with lies. I could have done without a few over the top references to bravery and lost lives, but all in all, this was a quite readable book.

Unfortunately, it's probably not recommendable to anyone. The Archive's version is a very, very bad scan that I had to mentally translate entirely too many times, and it's not on Gutenberg as of yet. If you find this in print form somewhere, definitely grab it. This is an excellent account of a small battle, and the best of the three small engagement books I've read so far for the challenge.

Inventing George Washington by Edward G. Lengel

If there’s one constant in American politics today, it’s that the meaning and intent of the Founding Fathers is as relevant today as it was over two hundred years ago. Possibly no group of human beings has ever been so analyzed as the powerful Pantheon of Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Franklin, Hamilton, and company, save perhaps Abraham Lincoln. No matter how many books are written about these men, it seems we can never truly agree on what they are. Into that fray comes Inventing George Washington, a book that attempts not to define Washington for what he was—but for what he was not.

It’s a novel approach, one that was initially taken by people called “debunkers” (working on the same theory as World War One de-licers), but is handled here in a far more subtle manner than the firebrands of the 1920s whose goal was seemingly to crash every historical figure off their pedestal—particularly the Father of our Country. In Lengal’s hands, the story of Washington after his death is not so much an attempt to make him less of a person but to show that despite being the most recognizable of all presidents, he is also the one that, pretty much from the day of his death in 1799, America knows the least about.

Starting from the early days, Lengel shows that Washington the man was outdone by Washington the myth almost from the get-go. Due to careless handling of his papers and even calculated destruction, it was difficult for any biographer to get a complete picture of the man. What to do? Start making things up. The more honorable the story (The cherry tree, anyone?), the better. Because this became such a cottage industry, everyone from religious zealots to those with political axes to grind would alter the history of Washington to fit their needs, a practice that goes on to this day. Lengel calmly walks through this minefield, pointing out the flaws as he goes.

Was Washington a prude? Not according to the records of the day. Was he a womanizer? That’s wrong, too, says Lengel, showing that extremes are generally wrong in any history of the first president. The same holds for multiple stories of his prayers/baptisms/conversions at Valley Forge, all of which have no historical basis in fact but are often repeated from grade school to grad school. Washington was neither a fervent Christian nor a Deist, showing both sides of this debate to be dead in the water. Similarly, he did love Martha, contrary to conventional wisdom, and was not above flirting, no matter how hard the Victorian prudes tried to paint him as above cares of the flesh.

Some stories included here are already pretty healthily debunked, such as the idea he had a slave love child or the Betsy Ross legend, but others really shocked me. The Quaker Spy story is just that—a story. I admit I was crushed. There’s also more evidence to support a lukewarm Christianity than I’ve seen in the past, though Lengel’s words will not soothe those who feel strongly about the faith of the Founders.

Perhaps the most interesting thing Lengel brings up is that Washington has been exploited for years upon years, and in many cases people prefer the myth to the legend. Everyone from PT Barnum to modern-day psychics have leaned on the power of Washington to make a quick buck, going back to before the days when Washington was even on the diminutive dollar bill. Want proof people prefer story to truth? A completely nonsensical psychic autobiography of Washington outsells many legitimate biographies. Americans know what they like—and it’s not true history.

Working roughly chronologically, Lengel discusses Washington the myth and does his debunking in a mildly sarcastic way, whether it’s to nibble at the edges of popular expectations or to mildly chastise those who are so desperate for a connection to Washington that they believe every Washington slept here story or take family tales for fact. He’s understanding of the need for connection, saving his venom only for the most poisonous or preposterous lies.

As a book, Inventing George Washington is less of a history and more of an un-history, or rather, it’s a history of the kind of inventions Americans are capable of, showing that our penchant for self-deception when it comes to American superiority started from the early days of the Republic and carry on in the words of 2012 presidential candidates. Washington as fact may not be very sexy, but Washington as myth has all the sizzle of a modern day scandal. For a man like Washington, who was very self-conscious, this would be very painful. Luckily for all of us, the one thing we know for sure is that he’s not alive to see it. Those willing to peek under the covers of popular history will definitely find a lot to enjoy in this work. You might even un-learn something!

The Battle of Wilson's Creek by Edwin C. Bearss

This book is part of my 7-year Civil War Challenge, where I read books relating to the part of the Civil War that is 150 years old. 2011 is 1861.

In the early days of the Civil War, generals and troops were mostly raw and unused to their commands or how to properly fight a battle with a large number of troops. Even in a smaller circumstance like the Battle of Wilson's Creek, mistakes were plentiful and based mostly on one part misunderstanding and one part incompetence, with just a hint of inexperience thrown in.

The Battle of Wilson's Creek is the story of an engagement that must have seemed large at the time, but dealt with "armies" that had only about as many men as a typical division would hold at the war's apex in 1863-1864. It's the story of trying to hold Missouri, a border state, in Union hands, when there were quite a few in the state who wished it to go with its slave-holding brethren in the Confederacy. There are hopes and dreams and visions of the war to come, from grand ideas that don't work to ill-equipped soldiers to civilians caught in the middle. Told right, this small battle would be quite the engaging prequel to the bigger battles to come, starting with Shiloh.

Unfortunately, in the hands of Bearss, it's a rather dry read. There's not a lot of human interest included, Bearss opts to keep his own opinions out of the narrative, and troop movements dominate the text. Even the battle descriptions are rather pedestrian and don't seem to capture the horrors of war before anyone really knew what that would come to mean. As a result, I had a very hard time getting a feel for this battle. It felt too clinical in Bearss' narrative.

Generally speaking, this battle was an attempt by the Union commander Lyon to try and do some of the things Stonewall Jackson would later be famous for. Unfortunately, he had neither the subordinates to carry out the job or the ability to make it work. Wilson's Creek is an attempt to surprise a stronger foe, and for a brief time, it works. But as the day wore on and mistakes are made, the almost double Confederate force not only gains a military victory, it has a win in morale as well. After Wilson's Creek, the South takes control of southern Missouri for a time, and the only thing the Union has to show for this debacle are dead and wounded troops.

Who's to blame for all this? Arguably John C. Fremont, the arrogant former presidential candidate who would soon be shipped well away from the war. He leaves Lyon out to dry in the face of an important strategic goal and a superior force. Lincoln also has a hand in the defeat, by obsessing over troop strength in the Virginia corridor and not thinking about winning the war everywhere, an idea that doesn't seem to hit home for another two years.

I know very little about Western Civil War battles, so I enjoyed getting to learn something about a small but key early engagement. That's the point of this challenge, after all. However, given how dense this book felt despite its smaller size, I can't really recommend it to others. I'm hoping there are more interesting books out there that cover western battles, or else this challenge is occasionally going to feel like a forced march.