immediacy: ephemeral thoughts on the immediate environment, a blog by Glen Engel-Cox

Cameron Colley is an Edinburgh-based journalist with a habit for speed (both drug and motion), an obsession for computer games, and a highly developed sense of moral outrage. As a journalist, he worships the patron of all gonzos, St. Hunter S. Thompson, and his righteous indignation is expressed in print as exposes on cheap liquor, defense boondoggles, and inept judges. Of course Cameron is not without sin--no self respecting protagonist could be--and his is an adulterous affair and an abuse of substances. But he is a likable enough rogue that it would be hard to suspect him of a string of grisly revenge murders against a host of wealthy capitalists and political powermongers. We, however, get to see the story from his point-of-view, and the police don't.

Iain Banks is one of my favorite authors, someone I truly admire for his ability to switch between genres like a chameleon changes colors. Under Iain M. Banks, he writes adventure-based science fiction that not only entertains, but usually has a moral underpinning. Without the middle initial, his books are variously mystery, thriller, or mainstream, always good, always interesting. If Banks was not so popular with other readers, I would likely have created a biopage for him similar to the one I did for Jonathan Carroll. But Carroll is a cult writer while Banks has been recognized in England as one of their best and brightest by almost every body politic. The result is that he has quite a presence of fans available to keep his name on the net and his books out of the mid-list.

I thought about trying to make a case for British authors being more eclectic than their American brethren due to the size of the country and the concentration of the market, but I immediately started to pick holes in my argument. For example, you would think that there would be more variety in a larger country, especially one as diverse as the U.S. To some extent, this is true--the regional presses, especially the university ones, keep alive the ethnic literature of their areas. But I was trying to make a point for the diversity that could be expressed by one author, encouraged by publishers, not the diversity of a publishing program in general. Okay, but are all British authors as diverse as Banks? No. Definitely not. Case in point: Terry Pratchett, probably their most popular author, and he writes the same type of humorous fantasy novel year after year. So, although I would like to complain about John Grisham, Tom Clancy, Danielle Steel, and all their progeny, and look to the U.K. as different, truth is things are tough all over.

To return to Complicity, it is a novel that is not without faults, although what one person might see as problematic another might have no difficulty with. For example, the beginning of each early chapter has a crime described in second person. Some people might be a little squeamish about phrases like "you hit him on the head with the tyre iron, and it sounds like egsshells cracking" (my words--this phrase doesn't actually appear). The sexual references are not for prudes, and, while not truly glorified, drug use is not condemned, and that does not sit well with some people either. For those with strong stomachs ant open minds, Complicity is a fine novel that is well worth your time.

I must be on some kind of roll in my mainstream reading. First was the exciting revelation that Robertson Davies wrote the types of books that appeal to me in the same way that Carroll's do, then came the surprise that Vladimir Nabokov was as clever as Borges, yet wrote at longer lengths. If Lucky Jim is any indication, now I've just discovered an author who combines the plotting skill of P.G. Wodehouse with the detail of Davies. My lord, three great new authors in one year--I'm not sure if I can handle it.

Lucky Jim doubles as a book of high humor and as an attack on the staid British university system of its time (and maybe beyond--I'm no expert in its complexities). For me, it succeeds best in its first role, but that may be because if has lost some of its bite in the intervening years since its first publication. Jim Dixon, the title character, is a new lecturer in history at a mid-sized college. He finds the work almost stultifyingly boring, but the real horror is trying to achieve tenure when faced with Welch as his immediate superior. And then there's Margaret, his girlfriend, although he can't quite remember how she came by that designation, who, although pleasing enough to look upon, seems destined to be always upset with him, which is dangerous, since she tried to commit suicide when her last beau left her suddenly.

Imagine Wodehouse writing a Wooster/Jeeves novel in which Jeeves becomes pure blind luck, Aunt Agathe is split into component irritations, and Bertie is a young teacher with a taste for drink and a bit of a chip on his shoulder. Then exchange the fantasy 1920s setting with a realistic early 60s one. The result is as fabulous, funny and appealing as a well-written Mad TV or Monty Python skit.

On the strength of this novel, Amis became a spokesman for a generation of "angry young men." I'm not qualified to comment further on that, which means I need to do some self-education on the British novel in the 1960s. Amis seems to have been the Vonnegut equivalent for Britain, that is, a novelist whose social commentary was stronger than the genre in which their books were based, which landed them with a mainstream audience. Just looking at some of his other titles reveals that Amis had an affinity for popular literature, even though his was never ghetto-ized. I'm hoping that some of his other books, like The Anti-Death League, will be as rewarding as this.

Like the Continuing Time series by Daniel Keyes Moran (as commented on a few months ago), the two books detailing the exploits of the journeyman thief Jame (of which God Stalk is the first) are constant favorites of the rec.arts.sf.written crowd. It is easy to see why. Both are great adventure stories, with an unusual setting and interesting characters. Much of what passes for SF can only claim two of those three distinctions.

However, I'm not going to join the club for either. While I did not have difficulty stomaching this book (unlike, say, books by Lois McMaster Bujold), neither did I feel a true excitement or enjoyment from it. I was entertained rightly enough, but that was all. And when if comes to pure entertainment, I'd rather have a book that humors me than have one that simply takes me for a ride.

When I was writing about Iain Banks and how he is one of my favorite authors, I started to make a list of who the others were. Long time readers of First Impressions could probably identify them better than I can, but here goes: Jonathan Carroll, P.G. Wodehouse, Tom Holt, Iain Banks, Tim Powers, Philip K. Dick, and Robertson Davies (Davies being the most recent addition). I looked at that list and knew something was wrong, and it did not take me more than a minute to identify the problem--where were the women? A problem? At least somewhat. I've never been one to totally segregate my reading, nor one to feel it a necessity to be the model of diversity in my reading choices, but I knew that I was over-looking someone. My top ten novel and short story lists both contain work by women (A.S. Byatt, Octavia Butler, and James Tiptree, Jr., to be exact), but although I like these individual works, I was not a "fan" of any of them in quite the same way as my male list. At the time I pondered it, and let it drop.

One chapter into Bellwether, as the grin slowly grew on my face, I was reminded of my previous exercise. For I am a fan of Connie Willis--I would donate my time to design a web site for her, to write an article about her, or conduct an interview and transcribe it. Not only is she one of the finest writers that the field has ever had, but her ideas are always interesting and the stories often amusing.

Take the case in point. Sandra Foster is a scientist for HiTek, Inc. studying trends and fads (things like Pet Rocks and Hula Hoops), trying to determine the causal relationship. The fad problem is a stickler, but Sandra's real nemesis is Flip, a true Gen X slacker who, in her role as mail clerk (or interdepartmental assistant) is the foil of the best laid funding plans.

This is comedy writing at its finest. Willis manages to combine wordplay, cynicism, juxtaposition, running gags, ironic detachment, sarcasm, misunderstandings, and physical humor in a short 247 pages (the leading, or space between the lines, and font size are great enough here that I suspect Bellwether to be close in length to novella rather than novel). But what keeps the story interesting is the concept of trends and chaos--the mixture of public obsessions with scientific theory. Bellwether is great science fiction.

This is Davies first trilogy, and, if I remember correct, his first novel was the lead-off to this, Tempest-Tost. Before writing novels, however, Davies had written several plays, so his first novel is quite accomplished. The Salterton trilogy is almost misnamed--yes, it does center around the town of Salterton, but the real center of the three books is Solomon Bridgetower. Although he is almost a minor character in the first book, he and his family are front stage in books two and three.

Tempest-Tost is about an amateur production of Shakespeare's The Tempest. The Salterton players assume they can have the use of the garden of their most famous citizen, and it is this assumption of community use that leads them into trouble. While no characters in the book undergo a sea-change, several characters do awaken from passive slumber to new lives, sometimes with mixed results. For anyone who has ever been involved in amateur theater, this is an extremely amusing tale. Others might find it belabored.

Not so with the second novel, which is about class and prejudice, but told in a Wodehousian manner. Winner of the Stephen Leacock Memorial Medal for Humour (a Canadian award for best humor novel--I wish I could find a list of past award winners), Leaven of Malice concerns an engagement announcement in the local paper that was placed by neither bride nor groom. The resulting conflict between the two families brings up old academic rivalry, the worst of the new goody-two-shoe couple in town, and an escalation of lawyers. In some ways it is a mystery, too, as the two "lovers" attempt to find who had the malice to link their names in the public eye.

The concluding volume, A Mixture of Frailties, is about a trust established by Solomon's mother, and how it must be awarded to a specific individual. But finding the individual is only the start of Solomon's trouble, and the story follows two separate lines: one regarding Solomon and his need for a heir to rid himself of his mother's legacy, and one regarding the lucky trust recipient, and her entry into the world of opera.

There were certain things near to Davies' experience, it seems: theater, academic life, and trusts. Trusts can be found in both A Mixture of Frailties and the second and third books of the Cornish trilogy, academic life is featured in Leaven of Malice and The Rebel Angels, and theater productions in Tempest-Tost and The Lyre of Orpheus. I can easily see myself rereading Davies in ten years, and rediscovering all of this once again.

I'm really late with this installment, and no real reason for it. I just never seemed to get around to transferring it from my Newton to the PC to format and send out. Actually, I guess that's part of the reason--I'd like to just send this from the Newton. While it does not have much trouble with shorter email, it doesn't have the memory for the size that First Impressions tends to have. Thankfully, now that the MessagePad 2100 has been released, there's an upgrade path for us 2000 owners to solve this type of problem. Thanks, Apple! I was afraid that I was about to be in the same situation I was in back in 1985, when I bought a 128k Mac and the upgrade path was non-existent.

As we near the end of the year, I was trying to think of something I could do to commemorate six years since the start of First Impressions. A website called The War Against Silence gave me this idea: why not list my favorite books published within recent memory? This should give you a good indication of the type of book I like outside of my recent reading, because most of my favorites were set before I began First Impressions. I hope to send this out in December (maybe even as the December installment).

As always, I welcome your comments on these comments. Thanks for reading!