by Hugh Laurie
1996
Cynical, wry freelance soldier of fortune Thomas Lang is hired to kill a man, but being a nice chap, refuses the money and goes to warn the intended victim. His discovery that the victim, an American industrialist, is also the man who hired him is only the beginning of a series of bizarre surprises and twists in store for Lang, as he is reluctantly involved in a plot to instigate a terrorist act so that a new attack helicopter can be tested out in actual combat. He falls for the industrialist’s daughter, is captured, shot at, and goes undercover with a band of misguided extremists in an attempt to prevent the gun sellers from benefiting from a bloodbath.
This parody of the spy genre is about three parts P.G. Wodehouse, two parts Douglas Adams, and one part James Bond. Laurie writes in a breezy, amusing style that draws in the reader at once, and while Lang is not 100% likeable, he’s a devil-may-care noir roué with a heart of gold. His snarky narration, constantly puncturing the stuffiness of the genre, keeps the pages turning, so the few bits that are really too over the top can be overlooked. It’s a very funny book in places, and the plot is wonderfully convoluted, with real drama near the end. The book could use a heavier-handed editor – perhaps Laurie’s star power prevented anyone from suggesting reasonable cuts – and now and then Laurie makes unnecessary, disparaging comments about fat and short people, which will probably not lose him any fans: but come on, Hugh, we can’t all be multi-talented, tall, adorable stage and television stars. Despite these flaws, it’s overall a delightfully funny novel, light and readable yet reasonably sophisticated.
[read twice: 12/23/06, 4/30/11]
four stars
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Nudge: Improving Decisions About Health, Wealth, and Happiness
by Richard H. Thaler and Cass R. Sunstein
The authors, both economists at University of Chicago, advocate what they call “paternal libertarianism” in order to improve an equal footing for all in the areas of health care, marriage, taxes, and so on, without impinging on freedom any more than absolutely necessary. They argue, reasonably, that everyone with a stake in an issue or a semblance of power is, whether they like it or not, a change architect – that even not interfering and allowing totally laissez-faire markets to evolve is still doing something (“If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice,” as Neil Peart says) – so governments and free markets should do their nudging in a positive and helpful way. For example, making a simple and high-returning investment the default option on a retirement package the default is a nudge that helps those who would be otherwise lost in a sea of legal and economic mumbo-jumbo if the default were “find your own damn retirement package.”
The authors write in a pleasing, non-preachy, conversational style, and make their points clearly, requiring no economic understanding to follow their ideas, many of which are more or less common sense (and thus will never be implemented by our government) while others are intriguing possibilities, such as Save More Tomorrow, which ties savings plan deposits to future raises. Although I enjoyed reading the book, for me it was basically preaching to the converted, without the necessary punch behind the ideas to ever convince any Republican big-government corporate-nanny-state lover. Actually I was expecting it to be more focused on personal, psychological nudges of the kind the authors discuss at the beginning, the way perceptions can deceive, the way self-control strategies can be used to hack one’s own mind, and the values that humans give to losses and gains. When the book hit its political and social manifesto stride, I was slightly disappointed, but the authors’ chummy style and practical ideas kept me interested.
four stars
The authors, both economists at University of Chicago, advocate what they call “paternal libertarianism” in order to improve an equal footing for all in the areas of health care, marriage, taxes, and so on, without impinging on freedom any more than absolutely necessary. They argue, reasonably, that everyone with a stake in an issue or a semblance of power is, whether they like it or not, a change architect – that even not interfering and allowing totally laissez-faire markets to evolve is still doing something (“If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice,” as Neil Peart says) – so governments and free markets should do their nudging in a positive and helpful way. For example, making a simple and high-returning investment the default option on a retirement package the default is a nudge that helps those who would be otherwise lost in a sea of legal and economic mumbo-jumbo if the default were “find your own damn retirement package.”
The authors write in a pleasing, non-preachy, conversational style, and make their points clearly, requiring no economic understanding to follow their ideas, many of which are more or less common sense (and thus will never be implemented by our government) while others are intriguing possibilities, such as Save More Tomorrow, which ties savings plan deposits to future raises. Although I enjoyed reading the book, for me it was basically preaching to the converted, without the necessary punch behind the ideas to ever convince any Republican big-government corporate-nanny-state lover. Actually I was expecting it to be more focused on personal, psychological nudges of the kind the authors discuss at the beginning, the way perceptions can deceive, the way self-control strategies can be used to hack one’s own mind, and the values that humans give to losses and gains. When the book hit its political and social manifesto stride, I was slightly disappointed, but the authors’ chummy style and practical ideas kept me interested.
four stars
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Murder On the Links
by Agatha Christie
The second Hercule Poirot novel. To explain its plot accurately would take half an hour and a whiteboard, but briefly: the Belgian detective and his aide Hastings are summoned to the house of M. Renauld, a millionaire who fears for his life. They arrive too late, finding him already dead, half-buried in an unfinished golf bunker, supposedly at the hands of bearded foreign thugs, and possibly at the hands of a jilted lover. But Poirot soon unearths not one, but two of the principals are living under assumed names and have criminal pasts, while the jilted lover may not have belonged to M. Renauld at all, and then another corpse pops up.
I enjoyed this book quite a bit, as I did its predecessor; Christie puts so much charm and wit into her tortuous, labyrinthine plots filled with deception and red herrings that the joy they bring makes one forgot the craziness of the coincidences and cover-ups. I did roll my eyes at the depictions of the police other than Poirot; I don’t mind Hastings being a besotted fool (and he certainly is, from first page to last), but when the police dismiss what is obviously evidence such as discarded clothes or the woman who visited the crime scene; or when the doctor fails to realize the most basic of forensic points (that a man was stabbed after death), it makes Poirot’s cleverness merely the rationality of the not-stupid. Still, nit-picking leaches the fun out of the mystery, and it is indeed quite fun.
four stars
The second Hercule Poirot novel. To explain its plot accurately would take half an hour and a whiteboard, but briefly: the Belgian detective and his aide Hastings are summoned to the house of M. Renauld, a millionaire who fears for his life. They arrive too late, finding him already dead, half-buried in an unfinished golf bunker, supposedly at the hands of bearded foreign thugs, and possibly at the hands of a jilted lover. But Poirot soon unearths not one, but two of the principals are living under assumed names and have criminal pasts, while the jilted lover may not have belonged to M. Renauld at all, and then another corpse pops up.
I enjoyed this book quite a bit, as I did its predecessor; Christie puts so much charm and wit into her tortuous, labyrinthine plots filled with deception and red herrings that the joy they bring makes one forgot the craziness of the coincidences and cover-ups. I did roll my eyes at the depictions of the police other than Poirot; I don’t mind Hastings being a besotted fool (and he certainly is, from first page to last), but when the police dismiss what is obviously evidence such as discarded clothes or the woman who visited the crime scene; or when the doctor fails to realize the most basic of forensic points (that a man was stabbed after death), it makes Poirot’s cleverness merely the rationality of the not-stupid. Still, nit-picking leaches the fun out of the mystery, and it is indeed quite fun.
four stars
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Queen and Country: A Gentleman's Game
by Greg Rucka
2004
The first Queen & Country novel, in which hard-drinking, tough-as-nails, dead-inside MI6 agent Tara Chace is ordered to assassinate an incendiary imam in Yemen after a disastrous attack by Islamic radicals on the London Tube. It’s a clean hit, but a Saudi VIP is in the wrong place and wrong time, and because the service values political expedience over its agents’ lives, Chace is forced to go rogue and undertake a highly dangerous mission in order to put things right.
Rucka is the master of the taut, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it paced political thriller; this book is easily as entertaining, and a lot more cosmopolitan, than his best Atticus Kodiak books. It’s thoroughly informed, smart, and all too realistic in its understanding of to what extent governments serve themselves, as well as chillingly realistic when it comes to depicting the confused, hate-filled mind of the zealot. Masterful and engrossing entertainment.
five stars
2004
The first Queen & Country novel, in which hard-drinking, tough-as-nails, dead-inside MI6 agent Tara Chace is ordered to assassinate an incendiary imam in Yemen after a disastrous attack by Islamic radicals on the London Tube. It’s a clean hit, but a Saudi VIP is in the wrong place and wrong time, and because the service values political expedience over its agents’ lives, Chace is forced to go rogue and undertake a highly dangerous mission in order to put things right.
Rucka is the master of the taut, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it paced political thriller; this book is easily as entertaining, and a lot more cosmopolitan, than his best Atticus Kodiak books. It’s thoroughly informed, smart, and all too realistic in its understanding of to what extent governments serve themselves, as well as chillingly realistic when it comes to depicting the confused, hate-filled mind of the zealot. Masterful and engrossing entertainment.
five stars
Thursday, December 2, 2010
The White Stag
by Kate Seredy
1937
Winner of the 1938 Newbery, this slim book is a fairy-tale adaptation of Hungarian legend, from the Biblical hunter Nimrod to the historical Attila the Hun, Scourge of God, in four generations. The miraculous beast of the title inspires the Hun and Magyar tribes (led by the warriors Hunor and Magyar respectively) to head west, looking for a plentiful paradise ringed by mountains promised by Hadur, the war god whose sword Attila is destined to find.
This is a bizarre book for children, and a bizarre choice for a children’s award. It has no historical value, being only legend, though Seredy grafts Attila onto her mythological genealogy. There’s nothing wrong with that per se, but it’s frankly unworkable as a fairy tale either. There’s no reason to admire or sympathize with the bloodthirsty warriors who murder their way through Europe, and it’s such a brief tale there’s no time for the reader to feel anything for them in any case. There’s no denying that it’s beautifully written, but I just couldn’t get past the baffling subject matter, nor the abrupt and wholly unsatisfying ending.
two stars
1937
Winner of the 1938 Newbery, this slim book is a fairy-tale adaptation of Hungarian legend, from the Biblical hunter Nimrod to the historical Attila the Hun, Scourge of God, in four generations. The miraculous beast of the title inspires the Hun and Magyar tribes (led by the warriors Hunor and Magyar respectively) to head west, looking for a plentiful paradise ringed by mountains promised by Hadur, the war god whose sword Attila is destined to find.
This is a bizarre book for children, and a bizarre choice for a children’s award. It has no historical value, being only legend, though Seredy grafts Attila onto her mythological genealogy. There’s nothing wrong with that per se, but it’s frankly unworkable as a fairy tale either. There’s no reason to admire or sympathize with the bloodthirsty warriors who murder their way through Europe, and it’s such a brief tale there’s no time for the reader to feel anything for them in any case. There’s no denying that it’s beautifully written, but I just couldn’t get past the baffling subject matter, nor the abrupt and wholly unsatisfying ending.
two stars
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Rebecca
by Daphne du Maurier
1938
The narrator, an unnamed and naive young woman, marries Maxim de Winter, a gloomy widower whom she meets in Monte Carlo. Arriving at his prominent estate, Manderley, she finds herself instantly rebranded as “the second Mrs. De Winter” and is overpowered by the long shadow of Rebecca, the dead first wife, whose decoration, mores, and schedule still dominate. Rebecca’s lifelong maid, Mrs. Danvers, in particular, is cold to the new wife, constantly comparing everything she does to the way it was done by Rebecca. Eventually, the narrator learns of the terrible secret – murder – that haunts Maxim, and is the reason why Rebecca’s shadow can’t be erased from Manderley.
While it’s indisputably a classic of suspense, I was rather ambivalent about this novel. On the positive side, du Maurier paces the novel wonderfully, setting up a truly creepy atmosphere and then letting the suspense pile up unbearably before the secret is out, whereupon the nail-biting begins anew as the resolution is uncertain. On the negative side… Well, first, personally, my interest in this book was probably dimmed by my familiarity with the great Hitchcock film version, which changes very little. Second, I found the writing to be overly prolix, especially in the lavish purple prose of the opening chapters. Third, I found the narrator to be rather unsympathetic, as she had very little backbone; it isn’t that her timidity strained credulity, as her behavior in such a situation seems rather probable for a certain kind of wallflower, but it doesn’t make her more sympathetic. Finally and most damningly, I found Maxim to be a totally unsympathetic cad, not coming to his wife’s defense when she was clearly being bullied by the servants, and he clearly knew her for what she was, an unworldly and non-wealthy girl who was unused to servants. Then there’s the fact that we, the reader, have only this man’s word for what happened to Rebecca and even if it were true he seems to have admitted to killing a woman he believed to be pregnant at the time – yet he is clearly meant to be a viable love interest for the put-upon narrator.
three stars
1938
The narrator, an unnamed and naive young woman, marries Maxim de Winter, a gloomy widower whom she meets in Monte Carlo. Arriving at his prominent estate, Manderley, she finds herself instantly rebranded as “the second Mrs. De Winter” and is overpowered by the long shadow of Rebecca, the dead first wife, whose decoration, mores, and schedule still dominate. Rebecca’s lifelong maid, Mrs. Danvers, in particular, is cold to the new wife, constantly comparing everything she does to the way it was done by Rebecca. Eventually, the narrator learns of the terrible secret – murder – that haunts Maxim, and is the reason why Rebecca’s shadow can’t be erased from Manderley.
While it’s indisputably a classic of suspense, I was rather ambivalent about this novel. On the positive side, du Maurier paces the novel wonderfully, setting up a truly creepy atmosphere and then letting the suspense pile up unbearably before the secret is out, whereupon the nail-biting begins anew as the resolution is uncertain. On the negative side… Well, first, personally, my interest in this book was probably dimmed by my familiarity with the great Hitchcock film version, which changes very little. Second, I found the writing to be overly prolix, especially in the lavish purple prose of the opening chapters. Third, I found the narrator to be rather unsympathetic, as she had very little backbone; it isn’t that her timidity strained credulity, as her behavior in such a situation seems rather probable for a certain kind of wallflower, but it doesn’t make her more sympathetic. Finally and most damningly, I found Maxim to be a totally unsympathetic cad, not coming to his wife’s defense when she was clearly being bullied by the servants, and he clearly knew her for what she was, an unworldly and non-wealthy girl who was unused to servants. Then there’s the fact that we, the reader, have only this man’s word for what happened to Rebecca and even if it were true he seems to have admitted to killing a woman he believed to be pregnant at the time – yet he is clearly meant to be a viable love interest for the put-upon narrator.
three stars
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Red Dragon
by Thomas Harris
When a deranged killer nicknamed the “Tooth Fairy” (because of his penchant for biting) savages two families, retired FBI profiler Will Graham is lured back into the hunt. Having been seriously injured in his last case – in which he captured the infamous Dr. Hannibal Lecter – Graham is reluctant, but it drawn ineluctably to putting himself in the killer’s head, despite his unraveling love life. Harris switches the reader occasionally into the experience of the killer, Francis Dolarhyde, who prefers the name “The Red Dragon” after the series of paintings by Blake – and we learn of the terrible childhood that shaped him even as a blind co-worker, innocent of his brutal side, unknowingly brings the humanity out in him by her romantic interest.
This is a brilliantly executed novel – graphic, gruesome, gripping in its terrible suspense and the palpable evil that builds up in its pages. But Harris, once a crime scene reporter, has also done thorough research in everything having to do with his subjects: pathology, graphology, psychology – all of which make the drama more real and immediate. The characters are fully realized; Graham is a flawed hero with a darkly troubled past, Dolarhyde is a tragic monster that, but for a few preventable accidents, could have been human. Fast-paced, taut, and all too real, this is a terrific thriller.
five stars
When a deranged killer nicknamed the “Tooth Fairy” (because of his penchant for biting) savages two families, retired FBI profiler Will Graham is lured back into the hunt. Having been seriously injured in his last case – in which he captured the infamous Dr. Hannibal Lecter – Graham is reluctant, but it drawn ineluctably to putting himself in the killer’s head, despite his unraveling love life. Harris switches the reader occasionally into the experience of the killer, Francis Dolarhyde, who prefers the name “The Red Dragon” after the series of paintings by Blake – and we learn of the terrible childhood that shaped him even as a blind co-worker, innocent of his brutal side, unknowingly brings the humanity out in him by her romantic interest.
This is a brilliantly executed novel – graphic, gruesome, gripping in its terrible suspense and the palpable evil that builds up in its pages. But Harris, once a crime scene reporter, has also done thorough research in everything having to do with his subjects: pathology, graphology, psychology – all of which make the drama more real and immediate. The characters are fully realized; Graham is a flawed hero with a darkly troubled past, Dolarhyde is a tragic monster that, but for a few preventable accidents, could have been human. Fast-paced, taut, and all too real, this is a terrific thriller.
five stars
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)