So after yesterday’s discussion of romance novels it occurs to me that maybe I really am a generic trend-follower and the real draw for me, regardless of genre, is vampires. Case in point:
- Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles
: These ate my brain* for a while during college. Interview with the Vampire (and the associated movie
) remains my favorite, perhaps because of an affinity for Louis that Rice herself obviously did not share. (In an intro to the IwtV DVD, Rice referred to Lestat as her “dark lover.” Um.) The books declined in quality as time went on, and eventually I gave up without reading Memnoch the Devil and only bothered with a few of the spin-offs (The Vampire Armand, Violin, and Pandora, if I recall correctly).
- Bram Stoker’s Dracula
: I actually rather enjoyed the book (to which the movie
was reasonably true), but it didn’t have a whole lot of Dracula in it. (More detail at my post on the Dueling Monsters Read-a-long.)
- Buffy The Vampire Slayer
: The film
was fairly forgettable, but I really liked the series, to the point where I was perfectly happy watching back-to-back-to-back episodes during much of graduate school.
- Van Helsing
: Silliness to the extreme and felt more like fanfic than homage, but I loved it for what it was.
- Twilight
: Oh god, don’t get me started. Short version: this horribly-written series totally ate my brain* for several months in 2009.
- Count Duckula
: Probably my favorite recurring guest star on Dangermouse
, but I’m not sure that has anything to do with him being a vampire.
So I guess this means I would probably enjoy The Lost Boys
*ate my brain: overwhelmed my psyche, to the point where I was thinking about it practically nonstop and could not get enough of it. See also: short-term obsession. (To be fair, this also happened when I read The Time Machine by H.G. Wells. So there’s that.)
by Dean Koontz: Um, wow. This was really terrible. I have no idea why I finished it. Basically, there’s a bunch of sparkling rain and people start seeing weird stuff in mirrors, and everybody immediately assumes that it signals an alien invasion. They’re right, which saves a bunch of time, but I’m still not sure how they knew. The prose is a solid shade of purple, people suspiciously quote T.S. Eliot, and dolls get possessed. And because this is a Koontz novel, there are magical dogs, questionable science, preachy theology, and a serial killer. I saw the “twist” ending a mile away, but thought “No, that would be too silly, even for Koontz” – and was of course completely wrong. Clearly nothing is too silly for Koontz. I’ve liked several of his other books, but this was simply awful.
by Dean Koontz and Queenie Chan: I’ve read the first three Odd Thomas novels. I really enjoyed the first one (Odd’s a pretty nifty character) but the second two, not so much. So when I heard the new graphic novel was actually a prequel to the first book, I got interested. And you know, it was pretty okay. The art wasn’t stellar but it was actually pretty fantastic to actually get to see Pico Mundo, Stormy, and the rest. And since it was just pictures and dialogue, most of Koontz’s purple prose was left out, making it a much tighter story. If other Odd Thomas comics come out I’ll probably look them up.
by Ellen Booraem: Medford Runyuin lives on the Island, a place where everything is named for its Use and nothing Useless is allowed. If you bake, your name is Baker; if you carve, your name is Carver; and everyone follows the rules laid out in The Book. Medford hopes to be called Carver once he reaches adulthood, but is worried about banishment because he has secretly been carving Useless (though beautiful) works of art. Now, if this had been the entire story, it would have been fairly generic. However, Medford’s life is turned upside-down when he is visited by the Goatman, a smelly man with hooves and horns who can control the wind. This nifty little twist adds life to an otherwise rather standard story about the joy of creativity. I hope there’s a sequel that goes into more detail about the goatfolk. He was the most interesting character.
by Rachael Antony: This was a gift from my sister, with the note “Long live your sense of adventure!” It’s a marvelous collection of travel games, from the simple (take the first left turn, then the first right turn, etc.) to the complex (a couple showing up separately at a foreign place and seeing if you can find each other) to the plain old bizarre (traveling while wearing a horse head mask). Each game is accompanied by a description of “laboratory results” (that is, someone who actually did it), most of which are beautiful and funny. One day I’ll try some of these. If nothing else, it’s a very entertaining read, and makes me want to explore.
by Robert M. Pirsig: There are several layers to this book. The outermost layer is a cross-country motorcycle trip Pirsig takes with his son, Chris. I probably enjoyed this part of the book the most, traveling vicariously through states I’ve never visited. Pirsig’s occasional descriptions of the scenery and people is refreshingly frank. The next layer is a series of talks Pirsig conducts in his head while riding the motorcycle. Most of this is a discussion of Quality. Since most of the book is spent describing this concept I won’t go into it here. The innermost layer is the life story of Phaedrus, a man whose past continually haunts Pirsig and serves as a backbone for his concept of Quality. Now that I’ve finished it, I don’t feel particularly enlightened. I think I may have gotten more out of this book had I read it when it first came out, or perhaps if I were at all familiar with the existing schools of philosophical thought. Having never read Aristotle or Socrates, I can’t say whether or not Pirsig’s arguments against them have any merit. My favorite parts were when he was less zen and more motorcycle maintenance, especially the course on Gumptionology 101. That made me smile. All in all, this isn’t the sort of book I could read for long stretches at a time, but rather something to dip into now and again. I’m glad to have read it, but I don’t think it’s something I would read again.
by Jon Fasman: Paul Tomm is a smart but somewhat aimless college grad who lands a reporter job at a weekly newspaper in the tiny town of Lincoln, Connecticut. When a professor from his alma mater dies, he is assigned the obituary, but soon finds that there is more to this quiet professor than meets the eye. Soon he is swept up in an unusual tale of murder, greed, and alchemy. A collection of alchemical objects are described in alternating chapters, and their sordid histories are almost as engaging as the main plot. And while the story itself was a very enjoyable read, what really drew me in was my empathy with Paul. His observations and reactions are so familiar to me. It really helped me feel like part of the story. I’ll definitely be on the lookout for Fasman’s other works.
by David Mitchell: Spent much of the book having absolutely no idea what’s going on. But that’s okay. Basically it’s a series of interconnected stories that go through the diary of an American man in Australia in the 1850s, a British musician in the 1930s, a mystery-solving American journalist in the 1970s, an elderly British publisher in the present day, a clone on trial in nearish-future Korea, a goat herder in post-apocalyptic Hawaii, and back again. I’d hoped there would be a little more connection between the stories – more on the comet-shaped birthmark, for example – but that was not to be. It also got a little preachy in places. My favorite was probably the elderly British publisher who gets committed to an old folks’ home against his will. All in all it’s a decent read, but far too long for the amount of interest it held for me. Which sounds about like how I felt about the other Mitchell book I’ve read,