Category Archives: Reviews

Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer – Not My Cup of Tea

abjvAnnihilation takes a little while to sink its teeth into you, but once it does it won’t let go.The good news is that it’s a beautifully written, compelling novel. The bad news is that the compulsion is to experience dread, dissonance and distrust.

In Annihilation, part one of Jeff VanderMeer’s Southern Reach trilogy, we follow the twelfth expedition into the region described as Area X, with a quartet of women we only know by their functional labels, the psychologist, the surveyor, the  anthropologist, and the biologist, who is also our narrator.

We are assured that horrible, or inexplicable, or banal things happened to the members of the first eleven expeditions, from mass suicide to turning up mysteriously back home with unreasonably placid demeanors.

Except that trying to ignore a region like this is about as easy as ignoring a sore tooth, you’d really wonder why they chose to make it an even dozen misadventures.

There are many genres within science fiction and fantasy, and weird is a perfectly legitimate one. Just not my cup of tea, when it’s all the story offers.

I embarked on the expedition into Annihilation hopeful to find some sort of lost world adventure, but about a quarter of the way through the book, about the place where the biologist, infected with spores from the tower/tunnel and the surveyor are descending into its depths while the psychologist “guards” the entrance, I decided it just wasn’t my thing. Then I realized it wasn’t going to let me go without reading to the end.

The writing is in the “found journal” style that leaves the author open to killing off the narrator, and were it not for the occasional mention of cell phones and other trinkets of modernity, it could have been dated from the time of Arne Saknussemm, on his journey into the bowels of the earth.  Clearly it’s Verne, whose sensibilities were such that he wrote stories that fostered a sense of adventure and discovery, rather than the aim of this narrative, which left me both the narrator and myself with a general sense of unease and ennui.

Now, I know I’m not in good company on this, and I respect that. The worthies (and I say this with some measure of sincerity) at Amazon deemed to make it an Amazon Best Book of the Month when it came out. The New York Times Booklist (magazine) designated it a starred review. Slate adored it. iO9 doted upon it, offering up; “In the best tradition of weird fiction, VanderMeer is evoking the sense of awe and terror that nature brings out in us.” Well, yes. that’s pretty spot on, but I’m more of a sense of wonder type, but I’m pretty flexible in my wonders.

And of course, it’s a Nebula Award nominee, which is why I picked it up in the first place. Unfortunately, it’s more weird than science fictional, which is why it bothers me. Annoyingly, I’m aware that bothering me counts as a win for the book.

Not that I don’t like a certain amount of weirdness. Really, most of my best friends are weird. The problem with tales like this is that weird is all you get, and it’s just not enough for me. Clearly this book has an audience, or it wouldn’t have made it to be a Nebula nominee, so congrats to VanderMeer. If it should win, I won’t feel that an injustice has been served on my literary sensibilities, because there’s room in the genre for more than one sort. In fact, I’m pretty sure I get the attraction here. I just don’t have the desire to unsettle myself sufficiently to appreciate the author’s talent.

I think I’ll go read some Verne.

Links / References

Inspector Morse: The first three novels by Colin Dexter

MorseMorse, who has been indelibly portrayed by the late actor John Thaw in some thirty three episodes, first came to life on the pages of Last Bus to Woodstock (1975) where the Chief Inspector is handed the case of the brutal murder of a young girl outside a pub in the titled city. We meet the faithful Sergeant Lewis, whom Morse immediately takes a liking to because he’s willing to disagree with him. Typical Morsian perversity.

In this first book, which takes a lot more time than a TV episode offers to get to the truth of things, we find the inspector gleaning clues from here and there until they fall into some sort of pattern. The pattern that’s repeated in this and the subsequent two novels, Last Seen Wearing (1976) and The Silent World of Nicholas Quinn (1977) is that he’s often wrong at first, or second, and generally comes to his wits end before the truth of the matter finally reveals itself to him.

This is rather hard on him, starting as he does with a morose nature of sorts, and does his sidekick no great good either. Throughout his cases Morse comes off as saddened by the affairs of the people whose lives he peers into, and when something like happiness appears to offer itself to him, as it does in the first book, he appears to have the premonition that it would cost rather more than he can afford. For solace he relies on a trinity of vices: crosswords, opera, and considerable quantities of ale.

A delightful bit comes up at the beginning of the second novel, Last Seen Wearing, when Morse is handed a cold case that had been worked on by another inspector who had been killed in an accident.

‘Ainley was a bloody sight better policeman than you’ll ever be. In fact I’m asking you to take on this case precisely because you’re not a very good policeman. You’re too airy-fairy. You’re too . . . I don’t know.’ (reference)

Chief Superintendent Strange may not know, but we’re familiar with the gestalt constructing process that defines Morse, and as for the better policeman, that’s what he has Lewis for. Lewis’ theory’s are almost universally dissmissed by Morse out of hand, but frequently come back to haunt Morse as he finds something in them that gives him a way forward out of the darkness he frequently finds himself brooding in.

Familiar with the character from television, I had some of the expected dissonance meeting Morse, and Lewis, between the sheets of paper that bore them into the world. Or as close as e-ink comes to it. But less than might be expected. Lewis turns out to be older than portrayed on TV, and perhaps a bit more set in his worldview as a result. Morse, perhaps a bit younger, at least at the start, and not quite without hope that he might get something more out of life than solitary pints to keep him company.

Indeed, the young women in the books often find him attractive, and flirt with him more than a bit, but though he’s keenly aware of a reciprocal attraction, he puts it aside for the work at hand.

I wouldn’t say the first three novels yield fast paced drama. Morse and Lewis plod along the trail, often repeating their circuits until the path seems over-worn, light finally dawns and justice is sated, if not always served. I enjoyed all three books, though a certain sameness was soon evident, and though I was happy to read this collection to its end, it left me with no compulsion to follow the inspector through the next ten novels until his death in The Remorseful Day (1999).

Links and References:

Coyote Cowgirl by Kim Antieau

coyote-cowgirlReview by Ernest Lilley
This review originally appeared in SFRevu’s June 2003 Issue – It’s available for Kindle for $2.99, which is a steal.
Have you ever read Coyote Cowgirl by Kim Antieau? It’s about food, family, love, betrayal, shamanism and food. Did I mention the food?

Charles de Lint says it’s one of his favorite books, and I like stories about the southwest and that whole spirit in the land stuff so I thought I’d give it a try. But I was determined to take Charles de Lint’s opinion with a grain of salt. I mean, he’s a seriously good writer, but what does he know? What’s really good, it turns out.

The story is about a young woman in the southwest who’s the misfit in a family of cooks. She can’t cook, talks to a crystal skull, and in their opinion, is a few eggs shy of an omelet. Well, the skull did talk to her first, and  like lots of misfits, she gradually starts to understand that she would fit in just fine, if she could just find the right place, and listen to the right voices.

Especially the wisecracking voice of the family’s heirloom skull. The one that fits on top of the ruby encrusted scepter that her father brings out twice a year on festival days. The scepter she was supposed to lock up in the safe (with the skull), not leave out while dallying with cousin Johnny, (“he’s not really a cousin”) who takes the scepter to pay off a gambling debt.

While her parents take off on vacation, Jeanne takes off to track down Johnny, and the skull, which hasn’t talked to her since she was a child, breaks its silence to beg to come along. Bringing along the skull is good for Jeanne, because it’s attuned to the scepter’s vibrations and thus is able to guide her, and it’s good for us because the snappy repartee between the two adds a wry touch to the proceedings and consternation to the onlookers.

Her chase takes her to Vegas and beyond, to a mysterious temple on radioactive land, and off to Mexico where her supposedly dead grandmother is living. But the hunter may be the hunted as well, and people start disappearing mysteriously in her wake. All too soon, it looks like Jeanne is closing in on her goal, much to the reader’s dismay, but the past reveals itself to be mere prologue.

The story winds wonderfully on as she comes to grips with being psychic or crazy (whatever), cooking, love, and her place in the soup of life.

Coyote Cowgirl is a terrific read and one that crosses a number of genre boudaries, not the lease of which being rich fantasy and fine food.

The Sony RX100M III is the “Best Pocket Camera They’ve Ever Made,” but is it a Step Forward?

rx100mIII-front-open

The Sony RX100M III has a full set of bells and whistles, including the first ever pop-up viewfinder. What id doesn’t have is the hot shoe for an external flash that the M II had.

Recently I took a trip to Denmark and Sweden, and while it might not have been a once in a lifetime opportunity, it wasn’t far off. So, the fact that I was between cameras was a bit of an issue. I’d sold off my DSLR and all its bits and pieces and I’ve been waiting with the resulting cash in hand to buy the best small camera with a built in eye-level viewfinder in the world. Just as soon as someone built it.

I was hoping that the soon to be released Sony RX100M III would fill that bill, and already had one on pre-order, but this was nearly a month ago and I needed something for the trip.

So I rented the current model, the RX100M II, from lensrentals.com, took it along, and love it. Now, a few weeks later my RX100mIII has arrived and I’m busy kicking the tires on it to see if the differences really make a difference, and how.

Two Steps Forward:

I’ve tried to be happy with small cameras that didn’t have an eye-level viewfinder, but as soon as the sun comes out I realize it’s not going to happen. Sure, I can more or less aim the camera towards whatever it is I’m shooting, and hope I get something, but hope is not a photographic technique. If the mII had an integrated eyes-level viewfinder, i would have stopped right there. But it didn’t. So I plunked down $800 for the next model, which arrived Friday, 6/20, four days earlier than Amazon predicted.

rx100mIII-lens

rx100mIII-lens
The new ZEISS Vario-Sonnar T* 24-70mm (equiv) lens is wider than the previous version’s 28-100mm (equiv), and faster too, at least at the tele-end. (F1.8-2.8 v f/1.8-4.9), but was that worth the loss of the 100 mm tele?

The RX100mIII has two major improvements over its predecessor, a pop-up eye-level viewfinder, the first of its kind, and a faster, wider angle lens. The previous lens, also by Zeiss, wasn’t bad by any means, matching the new glass at it’s widest (28mm) and adding a bit more on the high end (100mm), but Sony’s correct that photographers often find a wider lens more useful in the field. You can only back up so far, but you can often step forward a bit. The rub is that the “sweet spot” for portraiture is generally considered to be in the 85-135 mm range, which this camera can’t get to. Of course, with its very crisp 20.1 MP sensor, you can crop down to that without hurting yourself noticeably, but if serious portraiture is your thing, this lens isn’t.

The real deal here is that pop-up viewfinder. On the M II you could buy a detachable one that fit into the hot-shoe, but that was awkward at best and absurdly expensive at $449.99 (list). As the M III is about $150 more than the M II, the built in viewfinder is a steal. Typically these little viewfinders aren’t a match in quality for the big LCDs on the back of cameras, but the 0.39″(OLED), with 1,440,000dot resolution, gives it a fair run for its money. It’s a tiny bit awkward to open, as you have to pop it up with a switch on the side, then pull back on its housing to get the lens far enough back from the actual display to be able to focus, but it works pretty well once you’ve done it a few times, and the space saved by not having a big bump on top of the camera is worth it.

rx100mIII-reart-openThere are numerous other improvements, if not as earthshaking. The rear LCD now swings all the way up to offer a “selfie” mode, a neutral density filter has been added so that the camera could be made more light sensitive but still operate in bright settings. Add to that the already terrific features held over from the II, like WiFi connectivity to computers and smartphones, a selection of two absolutely brilliant auto-setting modes, one to minimize blurring and the other to pick from the arsenal of pre-programmed scenes, the ability to do panorama shots in either landscape or portrait modes, and much, much more. The camera was wonderful and it still is. Except.

One Step Back

The took the hot-shoe off to make room for the flash and the pop-up viewfinder.

Now, it’s true that I might never have gotten around to buying the expensive Sony HVLF60M flash unit (list $549.99), but somehow, knowing that I can’t add an external flash to the camera means that I can’t think of it as pro gear, despite the fact that its image quality meets pretty much any standard you can throw at it. Between the loss of the hot-shoe and the extra 30 mm of focal length, Sony is telling us that this is a camera we should take on travel to catch absolutely beautiful images, but not something we should ever consider waving at a model in a studio. Pity, because otherwise it’s up the task.

Now, the camera has the ability to be triggered by a WiFi controller, and includes both USB and NFC (near field control) connectivity, so Sony (or some enterprising hacker) could conceivably give it the ability to trigger remote flashes. Or you could use the camera’s flash to trigger remotes. Clunky, but doable. There’s not a lot that can be done about wanting a longer lens though.

…Keep Waiting for A Giant Leap For All Camerakind?

So here we are. Sony’s best ever pocket camera in hand and I want it to be better than it is. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen for the M III, but if there was an M IV being dreamed up, here’s what I’d ask for:

  1. Put the damn hot-shoe back on, or at least give us a flash sync plug.
  2. Add a lens filter thread to the front of the lens. Yes, there’s an accesory one, but it’s bulky and far from precisely positioned.
  3. Make a 1.5 telephoto adapter to go on the filter mount. Presto! You’ve got your 135mm portrait lens. You could also tweak the standrd lens up to 85 mm, but I’m not greedy.

On One Foot and Another

But what about now? Do I keep it and be vaugely annoyed at the flash thing? Well, yes. I’d cheerfully go back to the RX100 m II, except that I know I’d regret it the next time I tried to take a shot in bright sunlight, so I’ll stop whining and buckle down to the serious business of finding great shots. Here, are a few early ones from the camera that you can look over.

Links/References

Post by Ernest Lilley.

Aubrey in Space: To Honor You Call Us

The author doesn’t hide the fact that he’s out to clone O’Brien’s Master and Commander in space, and the story’s strength and weakness lies in how closely he comes, right down to the stilted dialog and naval tradition. Which ironically, makes it both anachronistic and accurate. Oh, and fun.

Lest you think author H. Paul Honsinger is trying to slip one by you, he puts his intent on the board from the start: to take the Jack Aubrey character created by Patrick O’Brian from the deep blue to the deep black and create a series showing the master and commander as he might be in a future time and war. He’s not the first to channel heroes from the age of sail into the age of starships. Among others, Gene Roddenberry based James Tiberius Kirk in no small part on C. S. Forester’s naval hero, as did David Weber in Honor Harrington, who shares the character and initials if not the exact chromosomes.  It’s only fair that they should inspire others, as they both almost certainly were inspired by Edward Pellew, a captain in Nelson’s navy who eventually rose to admiral, brilliant at sea, but driven by the poverty of his childhood to occasional lapses of judgement ashore. Continue reading →