Reading

Shortly after the end of spring semester, I started getting the fantasy itch - after all of the nonfiction reading I’d been doing, I needed something with orcs, elves, and swords. Along with installing Baldur’s Gate and Baldur’s Gate 2 on my PC^[1], I picked up some books that take place in the Forgotten Realms setting^[2]. I picked up all three books of the Dark Elf Trilogy, by R. A. Salvatore, as well as the Annotated Elminster, by Ed Greenwood.

I’ve thus far finished the first book of the Dark Elf Trilogy, Homeland. It was a fun read, but it could have been better; there were some things in it that drove me a bit bonkers, to be honest. One in particular? Salvatore’s (over)usage of varied tag lines in dialogue. In a short guide for writing dialogue, the guide at fictionwriting.about.com wrote:

6. Don’t try too hard to vary your tag lines when writing dialogue.
Veering too much beyond “he said/she said” only draws attention to the tags. Readers tend to read over these phrases anyway, whereas obvious efforts to insert variety, through words such as “interjected,” “counseled,” or “conceded,” draw the reader out of the action. If the writer is doing his or her work, the reader is already aware that the speaker is interjecting, counseling, or conceding. The writer won’t have to say it again in the tag.

I’ve seen this advice elsewhere on the ‘net, and it’s true - while you’d think “he / she said” over and over would get old, it really doesn’t. We’re used to it, we see it, we skim it, it’s gone - all we’re really taking in are the words that the characters are speaking. This is infinitely better than the reader stumbling over different (and at times peculiar!) tag words repeatedly.

Salvatore’s evil dark elf characters “said” a lot, but they also “grumbled” and “mumbled” a good deal. The two tag words that topped the charts, though? Snapped and growled. While I’m sure my perception of them was exaggerated due to some mild frustration on my part, I would have swore that one of these words adorned every single page of the book. Had they been used once or twice in the whole book, they would have caught my attention and given weight to the dialogue. Instead, due to how often I saw them, I started to think - do dark elves have a bit of canine DNA in them or something? They sure do growl and snap a lot…

I’m 15 pages or so into Exile, book 2 of the trilogy; we’ll see if the growls and snaps scare me away. Please, future fiction writers - go easy on such things.

1. Yes, I’ve played these before. No, my love affair with them will never truly end [↩]
2. The Forgotten Realms is one of the Dungeons and Dragons settings. More info can be had here. [↩]

Earlier today I was reading some of Magnus Magnusson’s Scotland: Story of a Nation, which led me off on a bit of a peculiar web path. In the text, Lindisfarne Island was mentioned a few times, which is the site of the first Viking Age invasion in England. They attacked on June 8th of 793AD, sacking the abbey there.

I realized that while I was very familiar with the tale of the Viking’s attack, I wasn’t sure where exactly Lindisfarne Island was. I had it in my head that it was on the west coast of the England, but this ended up being wrong. Wikipedia informed me that it’s actually on the northeast coast of England. The article also told me that Lindisfarne is a tidal island. I wanted to get a better overall feel of the area, so I looked up the island on Google Maps, and in playing around with the zoom, I realized that one shot that was in use had caught the island during high tide; the other, during low tide. It’s actually pretty neat to see:

Lindisfarne at high tide

Lindisfarne at low tide

While you can see the differences here, it’s actually easier to see it at Google Maps, where you can zoom in and out to see the transition. Just punch in these coords at Google Maps: 55.679°N, 1.808°W (or just click here).

Book title: Mort
Author: Terry Pratchett
Originally published: 1987

I finished reading Mort a couple of days ago, and perhaps the way to best indicate how much I enjoyed it is to say that I’ve already requested Reaper Man, book 2 in the Death series. I had a lot of fun reading this one.

The book focuses in on the Death character of Discworld, who looks like your basic Grim Reaper - skeleton, black hooded robe, scythe and sword. At the beginning of the book, Mort is “all elbows and knees”, and his father believes that he thinks too much. For this reason, his father ends up taking Mort to the village, in the hopes of Mort finding an apprenticeship. Death obliges, and takes Mort under his wing - or robe, as it were. When Death takes a day off and gives Mort a couple of jobs, Mort of course makes a mess of things. He has a crush on the young princess he’s supposed to be “ushering into the next world”, and so instead he kills the princess’s assassin. The rest of the book deals with how Mort tries to “fix” history, which continues to trundle along as if the princess were dead, and how Death tries to get in touch with his, er, human side.

While I enjoyed Mort’s character, what really made this book for me was the character of Death. There were some scenes in the book that literally had me laughing out loud, something I don’t do that often when reading a book. Many of the scenes that made me laugh were ones which dealt with Death’s peculiar character. He’s a mix between a humorless, all-work-and-no-play god, and a small child who is clueless of how the world works, due to his rather abnormal working conditions. This becomes readily apparent when he tries to do things that humans do, like going to the bar:

“I don’t see the point,” the stranger said. [Death]
“Sorry?”
“What is supposed to happen?”
“How many drinks have you had?”
“Forty-seven.”
“Just about anything, then,” said the barman. . . .

I burst out laughing at “Forty-seven.” In the book, Death also has a soft spot for kittens - go figure.

I loved this book, but a word of caution to those who might be inclined to read it after reading my post here: if you don’t like silliness mixed in with your fantasy, don’t read this. I’ve read that the Discworld series has developed over the years to not have such large amounts of gag humor in it, but this being one of the early Discworld novels, it runneth over with silliness. There’s a lot of stuff that just makes no sense, and if you’re someone who’s going to get caught up going “that’s silly” or “that wouldn’t work like that”, you probably won’t enjoy this.

However, if you think you’d like a kitten-loving Death, or a world that is held up by four giant elephants riding a 10,000 mile long turtle who’s floating through space, you’ll love this. Read it.

We’re halfway into the first month of the new year, and I’ve not said anything about 52 Books in 52 Weeks for a while. What gives?

For anyone who was keeping track, I fell woefully short of the 52 book mark, ending the year having read 36 books (and started 4 others, which weren’t completed when my clock clicked over to 2008). I think I ended up not reaching 52 total because I got hung up on some of the books near the end - specifically, the books for classes, most of which were history, which typically take me longer than a week to read. I suppose it goes without saying that the time and mental effort it takes to read a Harry Potter book is a bit less than that needed to read A History of India.

Am I going to do it again? No, I don’t think so. It made reading for pleasure too much like work for me. With school, I have enough deadlines to meet without creating more for myself. As can be seen by looking at the 2007 list, I skipped writing posts for quite a few books, and most of those ended up being books I read for university courses. For most of those books, I had to write responses / papers on them for class - the last thing I wanted to do was turn around and write a blog entry for them. But more importantly, like I said, the 52 books in 52 weeks thing just made pleasure reading too much like work. If I fell behind, I felt crappy about it, which generally just made me fall more behind. The more I fell behind, the more nasty the idea of rushing through a dozen books to “catch up” sounded. I didn’t want to rush through books I was reading for fun - I wanted to take them at whatever pace seemed appropriate.

Perhaps - indeed, I’d say almost certainly - I’ve taken this, and blown it out of proportion. But ultimately, I didn’t like setting myself a goal - even if it was as silly as reading 1 book a week and blogging about it - and then falling short of it. I’m going to obviously continue reading books, and I’ll continue to blog about them. But no more scheduled reading for me, unless the schedule is handed to me by someone I usually address as “professor.”

Incidentally, while I don’t plan on forcing myself to stick to a reading schedule, the 52 books in 52 weeks experiment did lead to me seeing how many books I can read, if I stick to (mostly) one at a time, and focus on getting through it. Certainly, 2007 is the year in which I’ve read the most books thus far.

Over a month ago, my boss at work, who knows I love reading, plopped the library’s copy of Eragon down on the desk I was sitting at. “You said you really enjoy fantasy, I read this, and I’d love to have your opinion on it.” Well, the book still isn’t finished - and I’m afraid to say, it’s not going to be. I’ve expressed before how much I dislike abandoning a book half-way through, and I really tried to stick with Eragon, but it’s just… not good. No, that’s being kind; it’s bad. I know, I know - the fellow wrote it when he was 15. I know that. But the fact is, there’s a reason not many books by 15 year old kids are published: they aren’t good enough to be sent to press!

When I first started reading it, I thought it was decent - it was no “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit”, but it wasn’t atrocious, either. But the more I read, the more bored I became - I felt like I could see through the 300 pages between me and the ending, right to the ending. There was no suspense, no intrigue, no interestingness. Young boy finds dragon egg; dragon egg hatches, dragon chooses boy; bad guys come and level boy’s home; mysterious old bearded man takes young boy under wing and starts training him, while hiding his real identity for no good reason. Yes, yes, and in the end, the young boy grows up a bit and wins a huge battle against the evil King of the Empire, right, while helping the rebels? Well, yes, actually, that’s exactly right (I cheated and read the plot summary at Wikipedia after throwing in the towel.)

I knew as I read through it that much of it was stuff lifted straight from other books, but I didn’t realize how much near-outright theft had taken place until I explored some of the amazon.com reviews. Paolini stole (admittedly, probably unintentionally) from Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Chronicles of Pern, and other stuff to put together his work. His heavy borrowing from other works definitely shows, with the story (the half of it I plowed through, anyway) feeling extremely generic.

As many of the amazon.com reviewers remarked, hopefully Paolini’s parents self-publishing his book for him (before a big publisher picked it up) hasn’t led to an over-inflated ego. His huge commercial success might have already led to him thinking he wrote something truly great - which he didn’t. The book is mediocre at best, extremely bad at worst, not to mention full of borderline plagiarism (just look at the names!). I hope he reads the criticism and takes it to heart; he’s got a long way to go before he’s a good writer.

Now that I’ve tossed Eragon aside, I’ve moved on to The Crow Road by Iain Banks, which Cas sent to me as a gift. I’m only about 30 pages into it, but so far, it’s excellent. It’s got a feel to it I’ve not encountered before in a book, and I’m digging the Scottish bent it has.