Final book reviews for 2007

I have just three books left to review for 2007, with the clock ticking toward 2008 and, hopefully, a new year of great reads!

Perfume: The Story of A Murderer by Patrick Suskind is one of those books I'm glad I read (although it isn't one of my favorites from the past year) simply because it was unlike anything I've ever read before.

Set in 18th-century France, Suskind's dark fable explores the psyche of a man who possesses the world's most powerful and refined sense of smell. Throughout his life, Grenouille is obsessed with scents, longing to name them, to manipulate them, and finally to possess them.

The book moved slowly for me at first, but Suskind's evocative writing and his forays into the depths of Grenouille's black soul kept me turning pages to see how it all would end. Other characters, including Baldini the master perfumer and the amateur scientist Taillade-Espinasse, lent some sly humor to the story.

As Grenouille moved closer to the culmination of his obsession (and to the murders referred to in the title) I turned pages faster and read the last quarter of the book in one sitting. Everything fell into place for a horrifying, but completely appropriate ending. My grade: B+

I looked forward for much of the year to the re-release of Jean Plaidy's The Reluctant Queen, about Anne Neville, wife and queen to Richard III (published by Three Rivers Press in late August). Unfortunately, I found the novel a disappointment.

I hoped Plaidy's telling would better illuminate the life and character of Anne Neville, daughter to the powerful earl of Warwick, "The Kingmaker," who helped Edward IV to the throne before turning his coat and backing the Lancastrian heir, the son of Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou. Although the historical Anne had little control over her own fate, she lived in an especially intriguing and colorful age, during the English Wars of the Roses.

However, the Anne of Plaidy's novel was a curiously flat character who spent most of her time fretting about her future, or Richard of Gloucester's destiny, or both. It read a bit like a personal diary kept by a dull woman with no aptitude for writing beyond stating bare facts. Even her frequent declarations of love and devotion for Richard seemed rather muted and uninspiring.

I did appreciate one aspect of the novel. Plaidy did a fine job of making Richard's personality ambiguous toward the end, so I, as a reader, was never sure I could believe Anne's praise of him. Plaidy left the question open of whether Richard murdered his royal nephews, but skillfully suggested Anne might have a blind spot regarding Richard's ambition or his true personality. My grade: C-

Finally, I finished The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman so I could start the new year with a different (hopefully better) read.

When I reviewed The Subtle Knife, I was angry at Pullman for writing such a terrible follow up to The Golden Compass. Concluding the trilogy with The Amber Spyglass just made me sad. The author took what could have been a wonderful fantasy story and lost it in a muddle of plot holes, diatribes against Christianity and logic-defying scenes that occurred so often, it was laughable.

It's such a shame, particularly since The Amber Spyglass contained glimmers of the wonderful writing and strong characterizations that made the first book so appealing.

Will, at least, becomes a more multifaceted character. Lyra regains some of her former spark. Pullman's descriptions are often still beautiful, although his world building is much less effective because he jumps from plot point to plot point without giving anything adequate time to develop.

A few aspects of The Amber Spyglass intrigued me, such as Will and Lyra's journey to the land of the dead, or Mary Malone's discovery of the mulefa tribe. But with a tangle of loose ends left abandoned at the novel's end, these developments seemed rather pointless.

The Amber Spyglass was not as tedious a read as The Subtle Knife, but I stopped counting the plot holes about halfway through and abandoned hope that Pullman would adequately explain anything. (Some quick examples: We never understand quite how Lyra and Will can dominate the harpies in the land of the dead and convince them to abandon their bargain with The Authority. And it's never explained how Mary learned to communicate fairly complex ideas to the mulefa within a matter of days.)

Pullman's chief villain, Mrs. Coulter, inexplicably changed in the final book, sacrificing herself for Lyra's sake at the end. Where in the world did that change of heart come from? I don't buy that this cold, ruthless, power-hungry woman suddenly was overwhelmed by latent mother love.

I had no qualms whatsoever about encountering anti-Christian, anti-religious or anti-authoritarian themes. In fact, I hoped the trilogy would offer strong arguments for discussion. Instead, Pullman chose to rant about the supposed evils of organized religion without backing up his assertions. He made blanket statements such as "The Authority and his churches have always tried to keep (minds) closed." Maybe they have and maybe they haven't, but Pullman offered no examples either way. His "arguments" would not convince the average high-school debate class.

Again, the Church and the Authority seemed like nonentities to most people in Pullman's many worlds. Only Lord Asriel, Mrs. Coulter and the individuals fighting on either side of the war against the Kingdom of Heaven seemed to care about religion at all. Pullman never adequately explained why Lord Asriel wanted to destroy The Authority, or why Mrs. Coulter worked so tirelessly for the Church. (And how did she gain such power in an organization dominated by men?)

The Authority himself appears in only two scenes, with no rationale for why he supposedly strove to dominate people's minds and hearts and imprisoned them after death in a bleak, hopeless existence. Far from being a towering figure of evil, The Authority was portrayed as a decrepit, fragile, senile, harmless angel.

The Authority's second-in-command, Metatron, the prince of angels, a being described as having a towering intellect and centuries worth of knowledge, was done in by a pretty face and a lame seduction. And the eye rolling by no means ended there. After about a thousand pages in the trilogy, the fate of all the worlds rested on a pre-pubescent love affair that read like a teenage romance novel. (Oh brother.)

I'm longing to lose myself in another book to get the taste of these novels out of my mouth. The Amber Spyglass gets a D grade, and the entire trilogy gets an F for beginning with a great story, becoming hopelessly tedious in the middle book and concluding with an utter failure of imagination.

The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman

Shame on you, Philip Pullman.

With the second novel in your fantasy trilogy His Dark Materials, you have committed a multitude of sins against the reader.

You ensnared many in the complex, multifaceted alternate world of The Golden Compass. Like them, I fell in love with Lyra, was intrigued by her quest to discover the nature of Dust and looked forward to joining her and Pantalaimon for the rest of their journey.

Then, with The Subtle Knife, you led me into a morass of sloppy writing, wooden characters, a directionless plot and illogical situations.

First, you gutted Lyra. What happened to this brave, resourceful and charismatic girl who was such an immensely appealing character?

Why, she abandoned her own quest to help a new hero, Will Parry, find his missing father. (Wow, what an original plotline!) Lyra becomes a mere shadow of her former self: quiet, uncomplaining, colorless and very much relegated to the background.

One of the joys of The Golden Compass was the relationship between Lyra and Pan, her daemon companion. He fades along with Lyra, only occasionally speaking or changing shape just to remind the reader he's still around.

This may not have been so infuriating if you, Philip Pullman, had given us a hero as complex as Lyra. Alas, Will Parry is a stoic, apathetic bore with an unappealing violent streak.

Toward the end of the book, Will suddenly declares Lyra is the best friend he's ever had. Gee, you could have fooled me. For most of the story, he seems alternately indifferent to or annoyed by her.

You abandoned the sense of wonder and adventure that propelled me through The Golden Compass. Instead, I got a meandering, confusing plot that did not so much reach a climax as just abruptly stop, without resolving anything.

Not a single character was interesting or believable, and the novel was a chore to read.

On top of all this, you were inexcusably sloppy. I came across so many blatant contradictions and unbelievable scenes, it was laughable. To mention just some:

1. The Subtle Knife introduces Specters, who consume the life force of adults and leave them as indifferent, soulless zombies. Early in the book, a minor character mentions he took refuge from a band of Specters by hiding in a hut. This led me to assume Specters could not enter buildings. However, the philosopher who gives Will the subtle knife later says he will kill himself when Will departs, because the Specters can enter his tower when they are no longer kept at bay by the magical weapon.

2. A young man who wants the subtle knife walks through a city infested by Specters to safely arrive at the tower. After Will and Lyra drive him off, he is consumed by Specters the moment he steps outside again.

3. The villainous Mrs. Coulter reveals toward the end of the book she can see through a witch's spell that causes them to be invisible to others. Yet in an earlier scene, she does not apprehend a witch spying on her while invisible, when doing so might have helped her discover Lyra's true nature.

4. Sir Charles, who steals Lyra's alethiometer, knows of several portals that lead from Will's world to other worlds. Why then does he not notice the disturbance in the air from the portal Will opens in his very own study?

5. Will is seriously wounded about midway through the book and spends the rest of the story bleeding profusely. He fights off a gang of murderous children, travels a great distance and climbs a mountain without passing out or going into shock.

At the end of The Subtle Knife, you, the author, finally reveal the protagonists' plan to wage all-out war against the Authority, or the Creator, or God, or whatever you want to call him. I couldn't see much of a reason why they should. In my comments on The Golden Compass, I mentioned it bothered me that the Magisterium, the book's chief villain, was such a nonentity, playing only a minor role in the story. The Subtle Knife didn't tell me any more about this Church that is supposed to be making everyone miserable. Most characters seemed to live their lives untouched by its influence.

Yes, you had some villains, but I still don't know why they are so nasty and evil or why they are committed to the Magisterium. Sauron, reduced to a giant disembodied eye by the beginning of The Lord of the Rings, had more personality than your evil characters.

I honestly don't understand why so many people praised The Subtle Knife, or looked forward with any pleasure to concluding the trilogy with The Amber Spyglass. I plan to read it only because I'd like to know what all the fuss is about, and I'm curious to see if you can extricate yourself from the giant mess you left behind with The Subtle Knife.

My grade: F.

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman

The upcoming release of The Golden Compass movie has prompted criticism from some Christian groups, with Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy labeled as "Narnia for atheists," and the author's motive said to be to "kill God in the minds of children." (For more on the debate, visit Idol Chatter, the religion and pop culture blog at BeliefNet.)

I had heard before about the religious controversy swirling around the trilogy, and with the movie about to debut, I decided to finally read the books.

I really enjoyed The Golden Compass, the first book in the trilogy. Others have said they found the book tedious, especially in the first half, but the novel captured my interest and held it from the opening pages.

Lyra, the novel's 12-year-old protagonist, is a resourceful, mischievous and confident girl who has grown up largely unsupervised at Oxford's Jordan College. Lyra's world mirrors our own but is quite different in many ways. In her world, every person has a daemon, a sort of familiar spirit who takes the shape of an animal and mirrors the person's soul and personality. Not only were daemons a fascinating concept, they proved a very effective storytelling device, as Pullman could reveal a character's thoughts and reactions through the actions of their daemon.

The novel's atmosphere, familiar in some ways but strange in others, hooked me at once. It evoked the feel of Victorian England with a few modern touches. The story, which combined fantasy and science fiction elements, was complex, multilayered and beautifully written.

The story begins with Lyra overhearing a scholarly discussion about Dust, a mysterious, microscopic particle found only in the frozen North that clusters around adolescents and adults. As Lyra eavesdrops, the scholars also talk about a mysterious city that can be glimpsed when the Northern Lights illuminate the sky, a city that appears to exist in a parallel world.

Lyra longs to visit the North to see these things, and she gets her chance when children from Oxford are kidnapped by the sinister Gobblers. Lyra joins a gang of gyptians (riverboat people) to rescue the children from the Northern outpost of Bolvangar, where the Gobblers are conducting horrific experiments on the children and their daemons.

During her journey, Lyra meets witches who fly on cloud-pine branches, warlike armored polar bears and a Texas balloonist before she discovers something of the nature of Dust and sees the city in the Northern Lights for herself.

Pullman's story was both imaginative and quite dark, especially during the book's second half. It seemed targeted more at teens and adults than children. Lyra experiences some horrible things and has her faith in adults shaken to the core. Her unshakable bond with her daemon, Pantalaimon, and their unconditional love for one another, made the dangers they faced more harrowing and their escapes poignant and emotionally stirring. I really cared about Lyra and Pan and felt their wonder and their fear along with them

I had just a few quibbles with the novel. First, I had a hard time accepting the role Lyra's alethiometer (the "golden compass" of the title) played in the story. Lyra could use the device to find the answer to any question, which made her quest too easy at times, in my opinion. It also killed suspense knowing Lyra could solve most any problem she encountered using the alethiometer.

Second, Pullman hinted throughout the book at the absolute power the Church and its Magisterium had over Lyra's world. But the Church played nearly no role in Lyra's life or in the lives of other major characters. Except for Mrs. Coulter (who obviously used the Church as a means to power) characters were neither fervent believers or opposed to Church doctrine. The Church itself played only a minor role in the story until the very end, when Pullman suddenly tossed some deep metaphysical and theological concepts at the reader (including quoting a well-known passage from the Book of Genesis, which seemed out of place). The Church would have been a much more sinister villain if Pullman had portrayed its oppression from the beginning of the story, or had Lyra or other characters believe in Church teachings only to have their faith sorely tested.

That said, however, I did enjoy the book, although I don't see it as the next Lord of the Rings. I am looking forward to reading the rest of the trilogy. My grade: A-