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Jan. 2nd, 2009 09:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
graculusFirst off, happy new year to all - I know for some of the people reading this, bits of 2008 seriously sucked, so my wish for 2009 is that the best of 2008 is the worst any of us have to put up with this time around!
Now, as anyone who's been reading my inane drivel for a while knows, I'm a voracious reader and my two favourite genres are crime and science fiction/fantasy (I conflate the latter because it really isn't two separate genres and hasn't been since forever, in my opinion, which is the only one that really counts around here...).
When I was at school, I had a major issue with English Lit and the dissection of storylines, to the point where I ended up getting booted from the class - this was, however, a move that backfired more on my teacher when I subsequently picked up an A in English Language. Now it seems that writing myself has created the monster my English teacher always wanted me to be. No more can I accept the shoddily-written or the badly-edited for the sake of getting my genre fix and I can only blame it on trying to put the stuff together myself.
I've been doing reviews on my Vox account, and I haven't caught up with myself yet, but the book I finished last night is a prime example. The book in question being The Summoner by Gail Z Martin, book 1 of a 2 book series. In itself, the book is pretty good and the author creates a raft of engaging characters, even if she does succumb to the tendency to have everyone be handsome or beautiful as well as competence personnified.
My main problem with the story is that the author doesn't seem to be satisfied. We start off with our common or garden second son of the royal family who has this quirk that he can see and speak with ghosts. Our boy has an older brother is a bit of a psychopath who then kills dad, which means our hero goes on the run, accompanied by loyal retainers.
Our hero subsequently learns that he's actually the heir to his grandmother's wizardly powers - so far so good - but that still isn't enough! We then have to have magic amulets and hidden royalty and magic swords thrown in to the mix in an 'oh, and by the way you're going to need this gizmo as well...' manner that started to get a little bit vexing. By the end of the first 600 pages, all I wanted to say to the author was: have some faith in your characters, dude!
I guess it's not just me, but has anyone else been hit with the picky stick since sitting down at the keyboard proper? I can't be the only one, can I?
Now, as anyone who's been reading my inane drivel for a while knows, I'm a voracious reader and my two favourite genres are crime and science fiction/fantasy (I conflate the latter because it really isn't two separate genres and hasn't been since forever, in my opinion, which is the only one that really counts around here...).
When I was at school, I had a major issue with English Lit and the dissection of storylines, to the point where I ended up getting booted from the class - this was, however, a move that backfired more on my teacher when I subsequently picked up an A in English Language. Now it seems that writing myself has created the monster my English teacher always wanted me to be. No more can I accept the shoddily-written or the badly-edited for the sake of getting my genre fix and I can only blame it on trying to put the stuff together myself.
I've been doing reviews on my Vox account, and I haven't caught up with myself yet, but the book I finished last night is a prime example. The book in question being The Summoner by Gail Z Martin, book 1 of a 2 book series. In itself, the book is pretty good and the author creates a raft of engaging characters, even if she does succumb to the tendency to have everyone be handsome or beautiful as well as competence personnified.
My main problem with the story is that the author doesn't seem to be satisfied. We start off with our common or garden second son of the royal family who has this quirk that he can see and speak with ghosts. Our boy has an older brother is a bit of a psychopath who then kills dad, which means our hero goes on the run, accompanied by loyal retainers.
Our hero subsequently learns that he's actually the heir to his grandmother's wizardly powers - so far so good - but that still isn't enough! We then have to have magic amulets and hidden royalty and magic swords thrown in to the mix in an 'oh, and by the way you're going to need this gizmo as well...' manner that started to get a little bit vexing. By the end of the first 600 pages, all I wanted to say to the author was: have some faith in your characters, dude!
I guess it's not just me, but has anyone else been hit with the picky stick since sitting down at the keyboard proper? I can't be the only one, can I?
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Date: 2009-01-02 03:37 pm (UTC)I'm still able to suspend to some extent, though I tend to have nothing but scorn for people who can't see past hotness to the difficulties with characters or plotlines. Hence my scepticism over SG 90210.
That may also be affected by my being part of UNCLE fandom, where pretty much everyone gleefully accepts that the storylines are pants and the gizmos worse, but still loves the show despite that. That's more of an attitude I can get behind.