Best Book Ever!
by Rich Horton
In my convention report on Boskone a few weeks ago, I mentioned that I regretted losing the notes I had prepared for a panel called "Best Book Ever!", in which the panelists were supposed to discuss books they particularly loved, or that were particularly important to them at some point, or that changed their approach to reading -- or perhaps even to life!
Well, guess what -- I found my notes! So I figure I'd post them. This is just a list of books. I'll try to give it some limited organization, but that's all kind of ad hoc. And the list itself was produced rapidly, and it might be rather different if I put it together any other time. But still -- should be fun!
So here goes:
What I loved as a kid:
Michael Strogoff, by Jules Verne
The Black Arrow, by Robert Louis Stevenson
At the Back of the North Wind, by George MacDonald
The Dr. Dolittle books, by Hugh Lofting
The Chronicles of Prydain, by Lloyd Alexander
SF Novels from my Locus Poll list of a few years back:
The Book of the New Sun, by Gene Wolfe
Nova, by Samuel R. Delany
The Stars My Destination, by Alfred Bester
The Left Hand of Darkness, by Ursula K. Le Guin (and her non-SF novel, Malafrena, that I loved at age 17 and am afraid to reread)
A Deepness in the Sky, by Vernor Vinge
Engine Summer, by John Crowley
Sarah Canary, by Karen Joy Fowler
Rogue Moon, by Algis Budrys
Use of Weapons, by Iain M. Banks
Pavane, by Keith Roberts
Fantasy Novels from the same poll:
The Master and Margarita, by Mikhail Bulgakov
One Hundred Years of Solitude, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Anubis Gates, by Tim Powers
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, by Michael Chabon
The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle
Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, by Susanna Clarke
SF/Fantasy novels I just love:
Ares Express, by Ian McDonald
Bridge of Birds, by Barry Hughart
The Door Into Summer, by Robert A. Heinlein
Crown Duel/Court Duel, by Sherwood Smith
Emphyrio, by Jack Vance
"Mainstream" writers of particular importance to me:
Anthony Powell (A Dance to the Music of Time)
Giuseppe de Lampedusa (The Leopard)
Penelope Fitzgerald (The Blue Flower, Offshore, At Freddie's)
Kingsley Amis (Lucky Jim, The Alteration, The Old Devils)
Robertson Davies (Fifth Business, What's Bred in the Bone)
Vladimir Nabokov (Pale Fire, Pnin)
Henry Green (Party Going, Loving)
Edith Wharton (The House of Mirth)
James Salter (A Sport and a Pastime)
Nicholson Baker (The Mezzanine)
David Mitchell (The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, Cloud Atlas)
W. M. Spackman (An Armful of Warm Girl)
A. S. Byatt (Possession, the short story "Sugar")
Poetry
Wallace Stevens
Writers I love from other genres:
Georgette Heyer (Frederica, Sylvester, These Old Shades)
Patrick O'Brian (the Aubrey/Maturin books)
Tom Holt (Goat Song/The Walled Orchard)
SF novellas and novelettes:
"Story of Your Life", by Ted Chiang
"Great Work of Time", by John Crowley
"Green Mars", by Kim Stanley Robinson
"The Star Pit", by Samuel R. Delany
"The Blabber", by Vernor Vinge
"Seven American Nights", by Gene Wolfe
"Wang's Carpets", by Greg Egan
"Fondly Fahrenheit" and "5,271,009", by Alfred Bester
"The Second Inquisition", by Joanna Russ
"The Sources of the Nile", by Avram Davidson
"The Stars Below", by Ursula K. Le Guin"
"A Rose for Ecclesiastes", by Roger Zelazny
"An Infinite Summer", by Christopher Priest
Writers who matter most for short stories:
Rudyard Kipling
Jorge Luis Borges
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
Thursday, March 9, 2017
Old Bestseller: She Painted Her Face, by Dornford Yates
Old Bestseller: She Painted Her Face, by Dornford Yates
a review by Rich Horton
I don't know how well this book sold, but though Dornford Yates may not have ever produced a massive bestseller, he wrote a lot of very popular books in two separate popular genres: Wodehousian comedy about the antics of rich people, and thrillers.
"Dornford Yates" was the pen name of Cecil William Mercer (1885-1960). His pen name combines the maiden names of his two grandmothers. Mercer was an Englishman, the first cousin of the somewhat more famous writer Saki (real name H. H. Munro). He was trained as a lawyer, and practiced for a few years (he was involved in the trial of the notorious murderer Crippen). He served in the Army (or Yeomanry) in World War I, and after the war concentrated on writing (he had published a number of short stories (and one collection) beginning in 1914). He married an American dancer in 1919 (at which time he also had an unsuccessful stage play produced). They divorced in 1933, and he remarried a year later. He had moved to France in 1920, and with the coming of the Second World War moved to Rhodesia.
Yates wrote primarily in two series -- the "Berry" books are the sub-Wodehousian comedies, mostly consisting of collections of linked stories. The Chandos books (which are technically linked to the Berry books by a couple of shared characters) are thrillers set mostly in Europe.
The book at hand, She Painted Her Face, belongs to neither series, though it is a pure thriller, and as such resembles the Chandos books. It is set mostly in Austria, but it has a distinctly Ruritanian flavor, and it might be noted that Yates also wrote a couple of purely "Ruritanian-Graustarkian" books, set in the fictitious Principality of Riechtenburg. The title is from the Bible, 2 Kings 9:30, about Jezebel just as she is to be killed. I don't think Yates really intended that passage to be significant, actually. The woman in the novel who paints her face is a very admirable character, and does not get trampled under foot, or killed in any way.
My edition is the American edition, from G. P. Putnam's Sons in 1937. The book was first serialized as "Counterfeit Coin" in 1936, I'm not sure where. The true first was put out by his usual publishers, Ward Lock.
The novel is told by Richard Exon, an Englishman of good family who falls on hard times after his parents die and his trustee gambles away his estate. Living in poverty, in Red Lead Lane, he meets and befriends an older man, Matthew Gering. When Gering dies, he leaves Richard a secret -- Gering was in fact an aristocratic Austrian, the Count of Brief, but his dastardly twin brother had framed him for a crime he (the twin) had committed, and taken over his identity. "Gering"'s wife had died, and thus his daughter is left in the custody of her evil uncle, impersonating her father. And the uncle has a son of his own. But Gering is in possession of the Secret of Brief, which he is on the verge of revealing to Richard when he expires.
Fortuitously, Richard is soon after restored to wealth when a rich uncle of his own dies. He isn't sure what to do about Gering's secret until he meets, by pure chance, one Percy Virgil, whom he learns is actually the evil nephew of the Count of Brief. Richard becomes convinced that he must travel to Austria to do what he can to discover the Secret of Brief and make sure that Gering's daughter, Elizabeth, is kept safe from the machinations of Percy Virgil and his father. Richard soon gains the help of another man, John Herrick, and of Virgil's ex-servant, Winter, who was only too glad to abandon his former master. (One of the ways Richard realized how evil Percy Virgil was was seeing him mistreat his servants -- the other was, naturally, his close-set eyes.)
You can see where this is going -- it won't surprise anyone that Lady Elizabeth Virgil, rightly the Countess of Brief, is supernaturally beautiful, and that she and Richard will fall desperately in love. But first Richard and John must rescue her from an attempt by Percy at murder. Shortly thereafter they sneak into the Brief castle to use the slim clue Gering had given Richard to ferret out the Secret of Brief. This is surprising and scandalous -- and it gives them a lever to visit Elizabeth's delightful old relative Harriet, the Duchess of Whelp, whom she calls Old Harry. Old Harry agrees to help them expose the evil fake Count, but she extracts Richard's promise that he will never marry Elizabeth -- you see, his birth is not high enough to marry a Countess.
And so follows more desperate adventure -- a couple more attempts on Elizabeth's life, and indeed on John's and Richard's lives; exposure of Elizabeth's traitorous maid (an English woman wanted for having had an abortion); a battle in a deep well; Richard discovered leaving Elizabeth's chambers (a scandal itself) ... and, finally, after all is won, Richard having to leave Elizabeth, as he promised. But will she stand for this? (What do you think?)
It's all ridiculous guff, of course. And terribly classist (with a mercifully tiny tinge of anti-Semitism). And built on coincidence and implausible acts. And based on the villains (and oh are they ever villainous!) acting in silly ways when necessary. But you know what -- that's all part and parcel of this sort of book. And no matter how silly it is, it's really quite a lot of fun. The romance between Richard and Elizabeth is wholly cliche in presentation, but it manages to be almost believable, and even a bit sexy. (There is, of course, no actual sex.) Old Harry is really a delightful character. The telling is lively, sometimes funny, often thrilling. This is a book purely of a familiar type -- but it is quite a good example of its type.
For all that it is interesting -- and disquieting -- to think that the main characters are left, at the end, in Austria in 1936, ready to take up a life there -- as the Second World War impends.
a review by Rich Horton
I don't know how well this book sold, but though Dornford Yates may not have ever produced a massive bestseller, he wrote a lot of very popular books in two separate popular genres: Wodehousian comedy about the antics of rich people, and thrillers.
"Dornford Yates" was the pen name of Cecil William Mercer (1885-1960). His pen name combines the maiden names of his two grandmothers. Mercer was an Englishman, the first cousin of the somewhat more famous writer Saki (real name H. H. Munro). He was trained as a lawyer, and practiced for a few years (he was involved in the trial of the notorious murderer Crippen). He served in the Army (or Yeomanry) in World War I, and after the war concentrated on writing (he had published a number of short stories (and one collection) beginning in 1914). He married an American dancer in 1919 (at which time he also had an unsuccessful stage play produced). They divorced in 1933, and he remarried a year later. He had moved to France in 1920, and with the coming of the Second World War moved to Rhodesia.
Yates wrote primarily in two series -- the "Berry" books are the sub-Wodehousian comedies, mostly consisting of collections of linked stories. The Chandos books (which are technically linked to the Berry books by a couple of shared characters) are thrillers set mostly in Europe.
The book at hand, She Painted Her Face, belongs to neither series, though it is a pure thriller, and as such resembles the Chandos books. It is set mostly in Austria, but it has a distinctly Ruritanian flavor, and it might be noted that Yates also wrote a couple of purely "Ruritanian-Graustarkian" books, set in the fictitious Principality of Riechtenburg. The title is from the Bible, 2 Kings 9:30, about Jezebel just as she is to be killed. I don't think Yates really intended that passage to be significant, actually. The woman in the novel who paints her face is a very admirable character, and does not get trampled under foot, or killed in any way.
My edition is the American edition, from G. P. Putnam's Sons in 1937. The book was first serialized as "Counterfeit Coin" in 1936, I'm not sure where. The true first was put out by his usual publishers, Ward Lock.The novel is told by Richard Exon, an Englishman of good family who falls on hard times after his parents die and his trustee gambles away his estate. Living in poverty, in Red Lead Lane, he meets and befriends an older man, Matthew Gering. When Gering dies, he leaves Richard a secret -- Gering was in fact an aristocratic Austrian, the Count of Brief, but his dastardly twin brother had framed him for a crime he (the twin) had committed, and taken over his identity. "Gering"'s wife had died, and thus his daughter is left in the custody of her evil uncle, impersonating her father. And the uncle has a son of his own. But Gering is in possession of the Secret of Brief, which he is on the verge of revealing to Richard when he expires.
Fortuitously, Richard is soon after restored to wealth when a rich uncle of his own dies. He isn't sure what to do about Gering's secret until he meets, by pure chance, one Percy Virgil, whom he learns is actually the evil nephew of the Count of Brief. Richard becomes convinced that he must travel to Austria to do what he can to discover the Secret of Brief and make sure that Gering's daughter, Elizabeth, is kept safe from the machinations of Percy Virgil and his father. Richard soon gains the help of another man, John Herrick, and of Virgil's ex-servant, Winter, who was only too glad to abandon his former master. (One of the ways Richard realized how evil Percy Virgil was was seeing him mistreat his servants -- the other was, naturally, his close-set eyes.)
You can see where this is going -- it won't surprise anyone that Lady Elizabeth Virgil, rightly the Countess of Brief, is supernaturally beautiful, and that she and Richard will fall desperately in love. But first Richard and John must rescue her from an attempt by Percy at murder. Shortly thereafter they sneak into the Brief castle to use the slim clue Gering had given Richard to ferret out the Secret of Brief. This is surprising and scandalous -- and it gives them a lever to visit Elizabeth's delightful old relative Harriet, the Duchess of Whelp, whom she calls Old Harry. Old Harry agrees to help them expose the evil fake Count, but she extracts Richard's promise that he will never marry Elizabeth -- you see, his birth is not high enough to marry a Countess.
And so follows more desperate adventure -- a couple more attempts on Elizabeth's life, and indeed on John's and Richard's lives; exposure of Elizabeth's traitorous maid (an English woman wanted for having had an abortion); a battle in a deep well; Richard discovered leaving Elizabeth's chambers (a scandal itself) ... and, finally, after all is won, Richard having to leave Elizabeth, as he promised. But will she stand for this? (What do you think?)
It's all ridiculous guff, of course. And terribly classist (with a mercifully tiny tinge of anti-Semitism). And built on coincidence and implausible acts. And based on the villains (and oh are they ever villainous!) acting in silly ways when necessary. But you know what -- that's all part and parcel of this sort of book. And no matter how silly it is, it's really quite a lot of fun. The romance between Richard and Elizabeth is wholly cliche in presentation, but it manages to be almost believable, and even a bit sexy. (There is, of course, no actual sex.) Old Harry is really a delightful character. The telling is lively, sometimes funny, often thrilling. This is a book purely of a familiar type -- but it is quite a good example of its type.
For all that it is interesting -- and disquieting -- to think that the main characters are left, at the end, in Austria in 1936, ready to take up a life there -- as the Second World War impends.
Thursday, March 2, 2017
A little-known Andre Norton Ace Double: Sea Siege/Eye of the Monster
Ace Double Reviews, 103: Sea Siege, by Andre Norton/Eye of the Monster, by Andre Norton (#F-147, 1962, 40 cents)
a review by Rich Horton
It seems like a good time to highlight another of the SFWA Grand Masters who wrote Ace Doubles. In fact, despite their somewhat déclassé image, quite a few Grand Masters published at least one Ace Double. I suspect the list is complete now -- I don't think anyone else who wrote an Ace Double will be named Grand Master. (Those that did write Ace Doubles are, if memory serves, Jack Williamson, Clifford Simak, L. Sprague de Camp, Fritz Leiber, Andre Norton, Isaac Asimov, Lester Del Rey, Damon Knight, A. E. Van Vogt, Jack Vance, Poul Anderson, Brian W. Aldiss, Philip José Farmer, Ursula K. Le Guin, Robert Silverberg, Harlan Ellison, James Gunn, and Samuel R. Delany. Corrections welcome, mind you! I recall reviewing a Van Vogt Ace Double some long time ago, and noting that at that time I had reviewed all the Grand Masters who wrote an Ace Double -- but as you can see, there were nine more still to come!)
Andre Norton (who was born in 1912 as Alice Mary Norton, but eventually legally changed her first name to Andre), was one of the greatest and most prolific of SF writers for Young Adults (or Juveniles, as the category was called when she broke in). She began writing in the 1930s, while she was working as a librarian in Cleveland. Her first books were not SF, but she turned to the genre with a story in Fantasy Book (the same magazine that first published "Cordwainer Smith") in 1947; and her first fantasy novel was Huon of the Horn in 1951. (I remember reading that with much enjoyment when I was 10 or 12.) Her first Science Fiction novel, Star Man's Son, appeared in 1952. At this time she was working for Martin Greenberg's pioneering publishing firm Gnome Press. She also edited a few anthologies. But mostly she published novels (and relatively little short fiction), typically in hard covers for the Juvenile market, followed often by a paperback reprint, usually from Ace, marketed for adults. Norton had health problems from early in her life, and sometime in the 1970s she slowed her writing schedule, with much of her later work published with collaborators. She was named a Grand Master in 1984, and she died in 2005, after which SFWA named its award for Best SF/F YA book after her.
A few of Norton's books were among the earliest SF I read (besides Huon of the Horn, I recall The Zero Stone and Uncharted Stars with particular fondness). That said, I didn't pay much attention to her once I was reading contemporary adult SF beginning in the mid-70s -- after all, she wrote for kids! But eventually I realized that her books were certainly worth reading for adults as well, and I've read quite a few of her books over the years, including some of the late collaborations (my favorites of these were written with Sherwood Smith).
Norton was not a great writer. Her characterization was limited. There was no real interest in interpersonal relationships in her books -- no love stories (at least in the earlier ones). But her prose, while not at all flashy, was quite solid, with occasional really nice images. Her plots and her SFnal ideas were not original, but they were well-constructed, and the ideas often evocative; and she wrote action quite well. She was also, at least for the first few decades of her career, very consistent.
A couple more personal stories. My wife's older brother told me once of a book he had read as a kid, until their Dad took it away from him (I guess he didn't approve of that sci fi trash!) He described the cover, and I recognized it right away as that of the Ace edition of Daybreak 2250 A. D., which was Don Wollheim's retitling of her first SF novel, Star Man's Son. I found a copy in a used book store and gave it to my brother-in-law, who was astonished. That was pretty gratifying. Also, an Andre Norton book might be the most valuable book I own -- I found a signed first edition of Lord of Thunder (1962), in mint condition, at an antique shop in Carthage, MO (NOT the setting of Gone Girl!), for $12.50. Unsigned copies are offered for $300 on Abebooks (which of course doesn't mean they'll really sell for that). (The fact that that might be the most valuable book I own tells you that I don't really have many particularly rare books!)
Well, that's an awful lot without getting to the books at hand. Sea Siege was first published in 1957 by Harcourt, Brace, for the Juvenile market. The 1962 Ace Double is the first paperback edition. (It is one of quite a few Ace Doubles I have seen with covers by "the two Eds": Emshwiller and Valigursky.) It's about 65,000 words, quite long for an Ace Double half.
It's a curious novel. It begins with young Griff Gunston, on San Isidore, a Caribbean Island. He's frustrated because he's stuck there with his Dad, an ichthyologist studying a mysterious new Red Plague that is killing fish. Griff wants to be in the Air Force, or something. But odd things are happening -- ships are disappearing, octopuses are acting very strangely, and there are rumors of sea monsters. Further complications arise from the U. S. Navy, which is rapidly building a new installation on the island. And the locals are getting a bit restless, including performing some voodoo-like rituals.
Then a true sea monster is found beached. It seems to resemble a plesiosaur. And there are even more dangerous things in the water -- perhaps even extra large, intelligent, octopuses. Griff and his father make a dangerous dive, and are threatened by a denizen of the sea ... and Dr. Dunston is poisoned and rushed to the mainland.
All seems set for the resolution of a mystery about suddenly changed sea creatures, etc. Then, suddenly, a nuclear exchange happens. The island is completely isolated -- radio signals from the mainland are lost. The second half of the book concerns the desperate attempts of the island residents, the Navy folks, and Griff Gunston to survive. Their situation is complicated extremely by the presence of hostile sea creatures all around, so that they cannot venture into the ocean. These creatures include intelligent octopuses (I should add that Norton pluralizes octopus "octopi", which I have been taught is incorrect) riding and controlling plesiosaurs. Huge octopi, too!
The novel proceeds, then, to a curiously unresolved ending. We never learn, for instance, the fate of Griff's father (though perhaps we should assume the worst). The islander, the Navy folks, and some rescued Russians come to a bit of an accommodation between themselves, and vow to defeat the octopus blockade -- but we are left with just that vow (and some small successes) -- no real hint at the ultimate future.
It didn't really work for me. The broken backed structure bothered me; and the various SFnal mysteries -- and cool notions -- were terribly underdeveloped. And Griff is a pretty bland main character. Definitely one of her weaker books.
Eye of the Monster is different, with severe weaknesses as well -- and also a somewhat unresolved conclusion -- but on its own terms more successful. It is much shorter -- perhaps 28,000 words. The cover says "First Book Publication", suggesting a possible earlier serialization, but I can find so evidence of such -- as far as I can tell this is its first publication. It has had several reprints, including a recent Baen omnibus edition, The Game of Stars and Comets, with three other loosely related short novels.
To start on the negative side -- the book is outrageously colonialist. To the point almost of parody. I was reminded of Jack Vance's The Gray Prince (aka "The Domains of Koryphon") (and so was James Nicoll, I found when I looked for reviews on the web). Like Vance, Norton stacks the deck -- and tells the story from one side only -- so that the colonizers (not just humans, but, I guess, members of the "Confederation") are clearly in the right, against the treacherous -- and also very smelly! -- crocodile-like locals. So -- that's all hard to buy. Besides that, as I note, the book is short, and ends on a somewhat unfinished note.
But ... on its terms, as I said, it's really pretty good. It's told at a breakneck pace, and it's very exciting. Norton really could write action quite well. It opens with young Rees Naper, stuck on Ishkur with his stupid Uncle Milo. (His father is missing, presumed dead, and Rees has not been able to follow his father's footsteps into the Patrol.) Uncle Milo is, in Rees' view, a muddle-headed fool, convinced that the natives are unthreatening, and that the Patrol's concerns over their restlessness, and their concomitant evacuation orders, are wrongheaded. Rees returns to their compound, only to find Milo and their guests Mr. and Mrs. Beltz brutally murdered -- along with their dog. Rees takes the Beltz' young son Gordy and immediately sets out in a "Roller" to try to get to another, presumably safer, compound. On the way he rescues a young Salarikan girl (the Salarikans are catlike aliens), whose family has also been butchered by the Ishkurians. Soon they happen across the Salarikan's mother, a person of very high status.
The four of them continue toward their destination, chased by a band of Ishkurians. They are also menaced by young Gordy, who has been brainwashed by his parents to think the natives are nice people. (Can you believe it? -- he thinks the slang term "Crocs" is offensive!) There are a couple of close shaves on the way, and a desperate final confrontation -- followed by an interesting offer from the Salarikan woman to Rees.
Alas, we never know the final result, though I assume they escape the planet and Rees joins the Salarikan woman's commercial concern -- I admit I'd like to see stories of them working together. But I don't think Norton wrote any such.
Bottom line is, if you can stomach or ignore the colonialist attitudes, this is a pretty cool adventure novella. There were good reasons Andre Norton was as successful as she was, and this shows some of them.
a review by Rich Horton
It seems like a good time to highlight another of the SFWA Grand Masters who wrote Ace Doubles. In fact, despite their somewhat déclassé image, quite a few Grand Masters published at least one Ace Double. I suspect the list is complete now -- I don't think anyone else who wrote an Ace Double will be named Grand Master. (Those that did write Ace Doubles are, if memory serves, Jack Williamson, Clifford Simak, L. Sprague de Camp, Fritz Leiber, Andre Norton, Isaac Asimov, Lester Del Rey, Damon Knight, A. E. Van Vogt, Jack Vance, Poul Anderson, Brian W. Aldiss, Philip José Farmer, Ursula K. Le Guin, Robert Silverberg, Harlan Ellison, James Gunn, and Samuel R. Delany. Corrections welcome, mind you! I recall reviewing a Van Vogt Ace Double some long time ago, and noting that at that time I had reviewed all the Grand Masters who wrote an Ace Double -- but as you can see, there were nine more still to come!)
Andre Norton (who was born in 1912 as Alice Mary Norton, but eventually legally changed her first name to Andre), was one of the greatest and most prolific of SF writers for Young Adults (or Juveniles, as the category was called when she broke in). She began writing in the 1930s, while she was working as a librarian in Cleveland. Her first books were not SF, but she turned to the genre with a story in Fantasy Book (the same magazine that first published "Cordwainer Smith") in 1947; and her first fantasy novel was Huon of the Horn in 1951. (I remember reading that with much enjoyment when I was 10 or 12.) Her first Science Fiction novel, Star Man's Son, appeared in 1952. At this time she was working for Martin Greenberg's pioneering publishing firm Gnome Press. She also edited a few anthologies. But mostly she published novels (and relatively little short fiction), typically in hard covers for the Juvenile market, followed often by a paperback reprint, usually from Ace, marketed for adults. Norton had health problems from early in her life, and sometime in the 1970s she slowed her writing schedule, with much of her later work published with collaborators. She was named a Grand Master in 1984, and she died in 2005, after which SFWA named its award for Best SF/F YA book after her.
A few of Norton's books were among the earliest SF I read (besides Huon of the Horn, I recall The Zero Stone and Uncharted Stars with particular fondness). That said, I didn't pay much attention to her once I was reading contemporary adult SF beginning in the mid-70s -- after all, she wrote for kids! But eventually I realized that her books were certainly worth reading for adults as well, and I've read quite a few of her books over the years, including some of the late collaborations (my favorites of these were written with Sherwood Smith).
Norton was not a great writer. Her characterization was limited. There was no real interest in interpersonal relationships in her books -- no love stories (at least in the earlier ones). But her prose, while not at all flashy, was quite solid, with occasional really nice images. Her plots and her SFnal ideas were not original, but they were well-constructed, and the ideas often evocative; and she wrote action quite well. She was also, at least for the first few decades of her career, very consistent.
A couple more personal stories. My wife's older brother told me once of a book he had read as a kid, until their Dad took it away from him (I guess he didn't approve of that sci fi trash!) He described the cover, and I recognized it right away as that of the Ace edition of Daybreak 2250 A. D., which was Don Wollheim's retitling of her first SF novel, Star Man's Son. I found a copy in a used book store and gave it to my brother-in-law, who was astonished. That was pretty gratifying. Also, an Andre Norton book might be the most valuable book I own -- I found a signed first edition of Lord of Thunder (1962), in mint condition, at an antique shop in Carthage, MO (NOT the setting of Gone Girl!), for $12.50. Unsigned copies are offered for $300 on Abebooks (which of course doesn't mean they'll really sell for that). (The fact that that might be the most valuable book I own tells you that I don't really have many particularly rare books!)
Well, that's an awful lot without getting to the books at hand. Sea Siege was first published in 1957 by Harcourt, Brace, for the Juvenile market. The 1962 Ace Double is the first paperback edition. (It is one of quite a few Ace Doubles I have seen with covers by "the two Eds": Emshwiller and Valigursky.) It's about 65,000 words, quite long for an Ace Double half.
 |
| (Cover by Ed Valigursky) |
It's a curious novel. It begins with young Griff Gunston, on San Isidore, a Caribbean Island. He's frustrated because he's stuck there with his Dad, an ichthyologist studying a mysterious new Red Plague that is killing fish. Griff wants to be in the Air Force, or something. But odd things are happening -- ships are disappearing, octopuses are acting very strangely, and there are rumors of sea monsters. Further complications arise from the U. S. Navy, which is rapidly building a new installation on the island. And the locals are getting a bit restless, including performing some voodoo-like rituals.
Then a true sea monster is found beached. It seems to resemble a plesiosaur. And there are even more dangerous things in the water -- perhaps even extra large, intelligent, octopuses. Griff and his father make a dangerous dive, and are threatened by a denizen of the sea ... and Dr. Dunston is poisoned and rushed to the mainland.
All seems set for the resolution of a mystery about suddenly changed sea creatures, etc. Then, suddenly, a nuclear exchange happens. The island is completely isolated -- radio signals from the mainland are lost. The second half of the book concerns the desperate attempts of the island residents, the Navy folks, and Griff Gunston to survive. Their situation is complicated extremely by the presence of hostile sea creatures all around, so that they cannot venture into the ocean. These creatures include intelligent octopuses (I should add that Norton pluralizes octopus "octopi", which I have been taught is incorrect) riding and controlling plesiosaurs. Huge octopi, too!
The novel proceeds, then, to a curiously unresolved ending. We never learn, for instance, the fate of Griff's father (though perhaps we should assume the worst). The islander, the Navy folks, and some rescued Russians come to a bit of an accommodation between themselves, and vow to defeat the octopus blockade -- but we are left with just that vow (and some small successes) -- no real hint at the ultimate future.
It didn't really work for me. The broken backed structure bothered me; and the various SFnal mysteries -- and cool notions -- were terribly underdeveloped. And Griff is a pretty bland main character. Definitely one of her weaker books.
 |
| (Cover by Ed Emshwiller) |
To start on the negative side -- the book is outrageously colonialist. To the point almost of parody. I was reminded of Jack Vance's The Gray Prince (aka "The Domains of Koryphon") (and so was James Nicoll, I found when I looked for reviews on the web). Like Vance, Norton stacks the deck -- and tells the story from one side only -- so that the colonizers (not just humans, but, I guess, members of the "Confederation") are clearly in the right, against the treacherous -- and also very smelly! -- crocodile-like locals. So -- that's all hard to buy. Besides that, as I note, the book is short, and ends on a somewhat unfinished note.
But ... on its terms, as I said, it's really pretty good. It's told at a breakneck pace, and it's very exciting. Norton really could write action quite well. It opens with young Rees Naper, stuck on Ishkur with his stupid Uncle Milo. (His father is missing, presumed dead, and Rees has not been able to follow his father's footsteps into the Patrol.) Uncle Milo is, in Rees' view, a muddle-headed fool, convinced that the natives are unthreatening, and that the Patrol's concerns over their restlessness, and their concomitant evacuation orders, are wrongheaded. Rees returns to their compound, only to find Milo and their guests Mr. and Mrs. Beltz brutally murdered -- along with their dog. Rees takes the Beltz' young son Gordy and immediately sets out in a "Roller" to try to get to another, presumably safer, compound. On the way he rescues a young Salarikan girl (the Salarikans are catlike aliens), whose family has also been butchered by the Ishkurians. Soon they happen across the Salarikan's mother, a person of very high status.
The four of them continue toward their destination, chased by a band of Ishkurians. They are also menaced by young Gordy, who has been brainwashed by his parents to think the natives are nice people. (Can you believe it? -- he thinks the slang term "Crocs" is offensive!) There are a couple of close shaves on the way, and a desperate final confrontation -- followed by an interesting offer from the Salarikan woman to Rees.
Alas, we never know the final result, though I assume they escape the planet and Rees joins the Salarikan woman's commercial concern -- I admit I'd like to see stories of them working together. But I don't think Norton wrote any such.
Bottom line is, if you can stomach or ignore the colonialist attitudes, this is a pretty cool adventure novella. There were good reasons Andre Norton was as successful as she was, and this shows some of them.
Boskone 54: A quick con report
Boskone, 2017, a Quick Look
by Rich Horton
This February 17-19 I attended Boskone 54, the first
convention I’ve ever attended on the East Coast. (In fact, almost all my
conventions have been in the Midwest, and quite close to my home in St. Louis –
I’ve been to quite a few Archons (Collinsville, IL, just East of St. Louis) and
ConQuests (Kansas City, MO), as well as a few WindyCons and one CapriCon in
Chicago. Besides that I’ve been to Worldcons in Chicago (2012), Spokane (2015),
and Kansas City (2016). (And one NASFIC, but that was in Collinsville, so
basically an extra large Archon.) I also haven’t been to the East Coast period
that much (not counting the Southeast – my sister lives in Atlanta, GA, my
daughter went to school at Clemson in South Carolina, and my parents used to
winter in Florida, so I’ve been to those three states many times). My Dad grew
up in Hadley, right in the middle of Massachusetts, so I’ve visited there a
couple of times, and Cape Cod once, but never Boston. So this was a cool trip
just on those grounds.
In my report below I will mention the panels I was on, but I
apologize in advance for not going into too much detail about what we discussed
– I waited too long to write this up, and my memory has failed me. (I also lost
some notes I had.)
The Con was held at the Westin Waterfront, not too far South
of Logan Airport. So I flew in and took a bus from the airport to the hotel,
which was pretty easy. We did have a trivial hitch – I ran into author Joe
McDermott waiting for the bus, and we convinced ourselves that the right bus
stop was South Station. Turns out that’s a nice walk (close to a mile) from the
hotel – but we’re young (erm …) vigorous men, and the walk was, let’s just say,
bracing.
I got to the hotel in the early afternoon, and my first
scheduled panel was not until 9:00 PM. So I didn’t do a whole lot for a while –
checked in, wandered a bit, took some pictures of the local scenery. There was
a freebie table in the basement near the dealers’ room. Somewhat had
contributed a whole bunch of digests from the ’60s through the ‘80s. I was able
to grab a number of copies of Galaxy and Worlds of Tomorrow and Analog that
intrigued me, including some of the late ‘70s Galaxys that I have unaccountably
lost. (I bought every issue of Galaxy from August 1974 through the rest of Jim
Baen’s tenure, and a few issues after, but I lost them all, or so it appears
after a recent reorganization of my bookshelves.) I did go to a reading by
C. S. E. Cooney – she read a short story she had just finished (having
rediscovered it after abandoning it a few years back). The story was pretty
cool, but, cruelly, we ran out of time right at the climactic moment! It’s in
submission right now, and I have no doubt it will sell, so I guess I’ll find
out how it ends eventually.
Around dinner time I wandered by the bar and grabbed a bite
or two with a varying and stimulating group of folks including Jo Walton, Ada
Palmer, Lauren Schiller, Max Gladstone, Charles Stross, Alter Reiss, and others
I have forgotten. I was particularly pleased to meet Alter, an Israeli whom I
had known online back in the rec.art.sf.written days (oh halcyon days of the
earlyish internet!), and who has recently been publishing some impressive short
fiction.
My 9:00 PM panel was entitled Hard to be a Hero. My fellow
panelists were Ada Palmer (author of Too Like the Lightning, a really
impressive first novel), Sarah Beth Durst (author of several fantasy novels,
for children and adults), and Margaret Ronald (whose short fiction I have
reprinted, so I was particularly happy to meet her). We had a nice discussion
of things like heroes vs. antiheroes, what it takes to be a hero, ordinary
people vs. heroes, etc. – including lots of discussion of manga, some very
interesting stuff (that I was not at all familiar with) – including the notion,
brought up by Ada Palmer, that the hero character who has had the most
difficult time is Astro Boy.
(My only regret about this panel is that it was schedule
opposite Trivia For Chocolate, traditionally one of my favorite panels (at
Worldcons, usually, and also at at least once at either a WindyCon or a CapriCon).
I usually – I think maybe always – finish second, and I was looking forward to
doing so again!)
The next morning began with a search for a breakfast place.
I wanted to do some walking and exploring of the local Boston area. I looked for
breakfast places, and couldn’t really find any. So I tried donut shops – I do
like my donuts! (Krispy Kremes need not apply!) Donut shops seem kind of thin
on the ground in Boston, except for Dunkin Donuts, and I wasn’t going to go to
a nationwide chain! I found a place called Doughboy Doughnuts and Deli, in
South Boston about a mile from the hotel. For complicated reasons the walk
there ended up being about a mile and a half, including navigating a steel
staircase down a couple of storeys – but that was fine, I wanted to see the
neighborhood. The donuts, alas, were a bit of a disappointment. The walk back
was the GPS-advertised 0.9 miles (it’s easier when you go the right way).
My first two panels on Saturday were back-to-back at Noon
and 1:00 PM. The first was called The Magic of Magical Realism in Literature,
with Carlos Hernandez, Cerece Rennie Murphy, Gillian Daniels, and J. M.
McDermott (whom I had met on the bus from the airport!) I thought the panel
went well – we discussed things like the definition of Magical Realism, and
Magical Realism from different traditions than South American (African, for
instance); and is Magical Realism really just Fantasy by another name (not really!)
The second panel was for Hugo Recommendations in Written Works, with Bob
Devney, Jim Mann, and Vincent Doherty. The only problem with this panel is that
we ran out of time. (For my recommendations, you can see my posts here, or the
summary at Black Gate.)
It was time for my only Kaffeeklatsch of the con, hosted by
Patrick and Teresa Nielsen Hayden. These are always enjoyable for me – after all,
conversations are what really bring me to conventions. We discussed things like
genealogy and the difference between Tor.com Books and Tor Books … Quite a nice
talk.
I did wander into the Dealers’ Room, of course. I visited
Michael J. Walsh of Old Earth Books, and bought a copy of Liz Hand’s chapbook
Fire., from the PM Press Outspoken Authors series. Michael also showed me his
new edition of Keith Roberts’ Pavane (one of my favorite books), with the
original Leo and Diane Dillon cover painting, plus, most interestingly, Roberts’
own paintings (from Science Fantasy), with the color mixing fixed (apparently
the original magazines were a mess.) I also saw Sally Kobee, and talked to her
a bit about Larry Smith and his passing, and what she’s doing with the
business; and bought one book from her (Martians Abroad, by Carrie Vaughn). I
was on a strict book buying limit because everything had to fit into a carry on
bag. (I did make some room by leaving a couple of copies of my Best of the Year
books on the freebie table.)
My 4 o’clock panel was on From Rapiers to Ray Guns (on weapons
in SF and Fantasy). My fellow panelists were Jo Walton, James Macdonald, and
Scott Lynch. I did wonder what I could contribute next to three such
distinguished writers who have written plenty of battle scenes … I kind of
forgot (completely forgot!) that I actually work on what we call Advanced
Weapons at Boeing. Alas, though I do have a certain expertise in pointy things
that go really really fast, I’m kind of limited in what I can say about them in
public. At any rate, the panel went quite well. I may as well quote Macdonald’s
law on how to avoid getting emails from gun nuts about the details you might
get wrong about the particular firearm your character uses – always identify
the gun as “modified”.
I had already arranged to have dinner with Claire Cooney and
Carlos Hernandez. Our three schedules intersected in such a way that we could
only fit into a 90 minute window, from 5:00 to 6:30, which meant staying at the
hotel restaurant, a sort of Irish-themed place (I had a hamburger which was
very good, and some very good onion rings as well). The conversation was
delightful – we discussed the upcoming novels from both Claire and Carlos
(Claire’s is in submission, and Carlos is just about finished with what looks
to be the final draft), and how they met, and their almost accidental
collaboration on the delightful story “The Book of May” (which appeared in
Clockwork Phoenix 5 last year), and Carlos’s Dad’s history with Fidel Castro
(both for and against), and much more.
Later on I wandered over the lobby area and ran into Ben
Yalow and Michael Walsh, and we ended up having a long and absorbing talk,
about a variety of things, noticeably certain details of fannish history, and
also Chris Offutt’s book about his father, SF writer Andy Offutt, and his
father’s porn career. We ended up deciding (after sometime later verifying that
it was published in 2016), that this book, My Father, the Pornographer, would
be a worthy Hugo nominee in Best Related Work.
Sunday morning began with another unsuccessful attempt to
find breakfast outside the hotel. This time I walked to the World Trade Center,
which is right on a channel – the Main Channel, I guess it’s called. It seems
to be a working seaport, for sure. I walked up and down a couple of piers.
There are lots of restaurants in the area, but none were open. (Because it was
Sunday, I guess.)
Back at the con, my first order of business was another trip
through the dealers’ room, and also a look at the art show. I will say that the
Boskone art show is EXCELLENT, the best of any convention I’ve been to. Among
the artists were Vincent di Fate (a long time favorite), Bob Eggleton (ditto),
Artist GOH Dave Seeley (whose work I quite enjoyed – I had not been familiar
with it), Tom Kidd, and numerous others, many of them quite impressive. There
was also a really impressive exhibit called 100 Years of Black and White SF
Art.
Then I saw Brimstone Rhine (Claire Cooney) in concert.
Claire sung a half-dozen or so pieces, a few from her album Alecto! Alecto!
(songs based on Greek myths or plays, done in a variety of styles), and some
unrecorded work, including my favorite, a version of a ballad based on the
murder of Daft Jamie by Burke and Hare (this time recast in SFnal terms).
My Sunday panel, at 1:00 PM, was Best Book Ever!, which was
just that – the panelists were supposed to cite particular favorites –
interpretable several ways: as really the Best Book Ever; or as a book that was
the Best Book Ever at a critical time; maybe a book that was great then but we’re
afraid to revisit; or a book that isn’t objectively great in all ways but is a
particularly delicious read. The other panelists were Walter Jon Williams,
Maryelizabeth Yturralde, and Beth Caywood. I had a list of the books I was
thinking of mentioning – and I meant to list them all here, but I’ve lost it. I
know I mentioned The Anubis Gates, and Ares Express, and The House of Mirth,
and The Fifth Head of Cerberus, and A Dance to the Music of Time, and Wallace
Stevens’ Collected Poems, and Nova, and Engine Summer, and Malafrena, and more.
I wish I had kept my notes, and I wish I could remember the other books that the
other panelists mentioned. Old age stinks!
I also encountered Theodora Goss and James Patrick Kelly.
Theodora was one of the people I was really hoping to meet at the con (I was
hoping to see Jim Kelly as well, but we have met before, a few times), so that
was good, and we had a very nice chat. I also attended a panel Theodora
moderated, on Making Magic Real (the other panelists were Jo Walton, Jim
Macdonald, and Craig Shaw Gardner). Oddly enough I just realized that was the
only panel I was in the audience for – there were quite a few other panels of
interest to me, but some of them were scheduled opposite panels I was on, and
the others somehow just didn’t fit my schedule.
Indeed, I had had a list of folks I had hoped to meet for
the first time at the con, and of that list, besides those I’ve already
mentioned (Theodora Goss, Carlos Hernandez, Margaret Ronald, Alter Reiss) I
also ran into George Morgan, Paul di Filippo, and Allen M. Steele (whom I had
never met when he lived in St. Louis, not terribly far from me, some years
ago). I missed Greg Feeley, who was under the weather and couldn’t make it. I
also never managed to meet Ken MacLeod, who was there; Darrell Schweitzer, who
was apparently there but whom I never saw; Cynthia Ward, who had to cancel;
Greer Gilman, who was there; and Fran Wilde (I couldn’t have congratulated her
on the Nebula nomination then, but I can now!).
I really enjoyed the convention. I was very glad to visit
Boston for the first time. I’ll have to take my wife some time – she wasn’t
terribly excited about going in February, between the cold and having to walk
everywhere. So perhaps I’ll try a Readercon sometime soon (not this year,
though, the schedule won’t work). I would like to get back to another Boskone too sometime. Thanks to Erin Underwood for inviting me (and
for putting up with my shamefully late response)!
Thursday, February 23, 2017
Some perhaps forgotten mysteries by Neal Barrett, Jr.
Not That Old, Not a Bestseller: Pink Vodka Blues, and Skinny Annie Blues, by Neal Barrett, Jr.
a review by Rich Horton
Here's a couple of books from the '90s, so not that old. And I doubt they sold all that well. But they are somewhat fun books by a writer who did some very fine work in the SF field. These are mysteries, however, and it's my sense that they have drifted quite quickly into Forgotten status.
Neal Barrett, Jr. (1929-2014) began publishing SF with stories published more or less simultaneously in the August 1960 issues of Galaxy and Amazing, so he was either (or both) a Gold (and Pohl?) discovery or a Goldsmith discovery. That said, he also worked for the Stratemeyer Syndicate, publishing as by Victor Appleton and Franklin W. Dixon, so presumably he wrote both Tom Swift stories and Hardy Boys stories, though I don't know when. His early work was decent but not particularly special, but in the 80s and through the 90s he published some excellent novels (most notably Through Darkest America) and stories (my favorite being "Stairs"). Later he turned to mysteries of a somewhat gonzo tone, as with these books. He was SFWA Author Emeritus in 2010.
In the '90s he published a number of mysteries. Most of them have titles ending in "Blues". Some of are part of a series about a guy named Wiley Moss. I saw a number of these titles for sale at a remainder shop in Branson, when on vacation. (Which raises the question -- why are mass market paperbacks being remaindered? And are authors getting screwed in the process?) I looked for the earliest one in the pile, which turned out to be Pink Vodka Blues, from 1992.
Pink Vodka Blues is not a Wiley Moss mystery, nor indeed, it would seem from internal evidence, part of any ongoing series at all. The lead character is Russell Murray, a seriously alcoholic writer for a literary magazine in Chicago. He returns from a trip to Dallas for his editor with absolute no memory of where he's been or what he's done. Worse, he wakes up in a hotel room with a naked woman he doesn't recognize -- and minutes later a couple of hitmen smash their way into the room and kill the woman -- the terrified Russell escapes by sheer luck. Naturally enough, he is soon the prime suspect in the murder of the woman, and he is quickly on the run. He still has no idea what happened in Dallas -- he was supposedly delivering a manuscript to a reclusive author while his editor, who was supposed to do the job, spent the weekend with his mistress. Soon Russell learns that his editor is the nephew of a local mob boss, and that two factions in the mob want whatever Russell was supposed to deliver, which delivery apparently never happened. Russell can't help, because his memory is shot. He ends up in a rehab facility after passing out in his car -- and there he meets a beautiful and rich alcoholic woman. When the mob track him down, he and the woman escape, and rather clumsily and drunkenly wind their way across the US, to Dallas, Florida, and back to Chicago, chased by two strange sets of hit people, trying to figure out what Russell has forgotten.
The book is quite funny at times, though it's also a scary (and accurate-seeming) portrayal of alcoholism. The main characters are nice enough that we root for them, but they are by no means hero and heroine -- they are losers, and if they end up halfway solving their problem, only some of the bad guys get their due, and the good guys only partly get a happy ending also. Which qualifies as fairly realistic, I guess. This fits more or less into the Elmore Leonard end of the crime fiction genre, though I'd call it not as good as Leonard, but worth reading.
I also found the first of his Wiley Moss mysteries, Skinny Annie Blues, from 1996. Wiley Moss is an artist (he draws bugs) in Washington, D. C., living with a beautiful but dotty woman named Giselle. He gets a phone call telling him that his Dad, who left his mother when he was a child, has died down in Galveston, and that he better not come down there. Naturally, he figures something nasty is up, and heads to Texas. Once there, he gets in all kinds of strange trouble, involving at least three more beautiful women: his Dad's new wife, a blind black woman named Grace; a restaurant owner named Annie (not Skinny Annie, though!); and a redhaired woman who takes immediate dislike to him on the plane. Wiley blunders around Galveston, running afoul of the corrupt sheriff R. J., the mobster Pound, the various women, and low rent criminal Harry Sykes. Everybody seems to assume he knows something about the deal his Dad had going before he died. It's all a bit chaotic, and it depends on people acting fairly stupidly. There's a lot of funny stuff, and some wild stuff, but it doesn't really cohere. Minor.
a review by Rich Horton
Here's a couple of books from the '90s, so not that old. And I doubt they sold all that well. But they are somewhat fun books by a writer who did some very fine work in the SF field. These are mysteries, however, and it's my sense that they have drifted quite quickly into Forgotten status.
Neal Barrett, Jr. (1929-2014) began publishing SF with stories published more or less simultaneously in the August 1960 issues of Galaxy and Amazing, so he was either (or both) a Gold (and Pohl?) discovery or a Goldsmith discovery. That said, he also worked for the Stratemeyer Syndicate, publishing as by Victor Appleton and Franklin W. Dixon, so presumably he wrote both Tom Swift stories and Hardy Boys stories, though I don't know when. His early work was decent but not particularly special, but in the 80s and through the 90s he published some excellent novels (most notably Through Darkest America) and stories (my favorite being "Stairs"). Later he turned to mysteries of a somewhat gonzo tone, as with these books. He was SFWA Author Emeritus in 2010.
In the '90s he published a number of mysteries. Most of them have titles ending in "Blues". Some of are part of a series about a guy named Wiley Moss. I saw a number of these titles for sale at a remainder shop in Branson, when on vacation. (Which raises the question -- why are mass market paperbacks being remaindered? And are authors getting screwed in the process?) I looked for the earliest one in the pile, which turned out to be Pink Vodka Blues, from 1992.
 |
Pink Vodka Blues is not a Wiley Moss mystery, nor indeed, it would seem from internal evidence, part of any ongoing series at all. The lead character is Russell Murray, a seriously alcoholic writer for a literary magazine in Chicago. He returns from a trip to Dallas for his editor with absolute no memory of where he's been or what he's done. Worse, he wakes up in a hotel room with a naked woman he doesn't recognize -- and minutes later a couple of hitmen smash their way into the room and kill the woman -- the terrified Russell escapes by sheer luck. Naturally enough, he is soon the prime suspect in the murder of the woman, and he is quickly on the run. He still has no idea what happened in Dallas -- he was supposedly delivering a manuscript to a reclusive author while his editor, who was supposed to do the job, spent the weekend with his mistress. Soon Russell learns that his editor is the nephew of a local mob boss, and that two factions in the mob want whatever Russell was supposed to deliver, which delivery apparently never happened. Russell can't help, because his memory is shot. He ends up in a rehab facility after passing out in his car -- and there he meets a beautiful and rich alcoholic woman. When the mob track him down, he and the woman escape, and rather clumsily and drunkenly wind their way across the US, to Dallas, Florida, and back to Chicago, chased by two strange sets of hit people, trying to figure out what Russell has forgotten.
The book is quite funny at times, though it's also a scary (and accurate-seeming) portrayal of alcoholism. The main characters are nice enough that we root for them, but they are by no means hero and heroine -- they are losers, and if they end up halfway solving their problem, only some of the bad guys get their due, and the good guys only partly get a happy ending also. Which qualifies as fairly realistic, I guess. This fits more or less into the Elmore Leonard end of the crime fiction genre, though I'd call it not as good as Leonard, but worth reading.I also found the first of his Wiley Moss mysteries, Skinny Annie Blues, from 1996. Wiley Moss is an artist (he draws bugs) in Washington, D. C., living with a beautiful but dotty woman named Giselle. He gets a phone call telling him that his Dad, who left his mother when he was a child, has died down in Galveston, and that he better not come down there. Naturally, he figures something nasty is up, and heads to Texas. Once there, he gets in all kinds of strange trouble, involving at least three more beautiful women: his Dad's new wife, a blind black woman named Grace; a restaurant owner named Annie (not Skinny Annie, though!); and a redhaired woman who takes immediate dislike to him on the plane. Wiley blunders around Galveston, running afoul of the corrupt sheriff R. J., the mobster Pound, the various women, and low rent criminal Harry Sykes. Everybody seems to assume he knows something about the deal his Dad had going before he died. It's all a bit chaotic, and it depends on people acting fairly stupidly. There's a lot of funny stuff, and some wild stuff, but it doesn't really cohere. Minor.
Monday, February 20, 2017
Nebula Nominees
The 2016 Nebula, Bradbury (screenplay) and Norton (YA) nominations have been announced. I think it's a pretty good list overall, to the extent I've read things. (And I need to read a couple more, for sure.)
Here's the list (which is officially announced here.) I'll include my own comments. (Please note that as an affiliate member of SFWA I do not have a vote.)
Novel:
All the Birds in the Sky, Charlie Jane Anders (Tor; Titan)
Borderline, Mishell Baker (Saga)
The Obelisk Gate, N.K. Jemisin (Orbit US; Orbit UK)
Ninefox Gambit,Yoon Ha Lee (Solaris US; Solaris UK)
Everfair, Nisi Shawl (Tor)
As I said in my Hugo nomination suggestion post, I haven't read enough novels to speak with great authority. I did recommend All the Birds in the Sky, so I'm very happy with that nomination. Ninefox Gambit and Everfair are on my list of novels I mean to read soon and am excited about. I will confess abashedly that I have not even heard of Borderline (though I do recall enjoying a short story by Baker a couple of years ago). And of course I should also read The Obelisk Gate. Further comment will have to await a lot more reading.
Novella:
Runtime, S.B. Divya (Tor.com Publishing)
The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe, Kij Johnson (Tor.com Publishing)
The Ballad of Black Tom, Victor LaValle (Tor.com Publishing)
Every Heart a Doorway, Seanan McGuire (Tor.com Publishing)
"The Liar", John P. Murphy (F&SF)
A Taste of Honey, Kai Ashante Wilson (Tor.com Publishing)
Again, some guilty not-yet reads in this list -- I've got a copy of A Taste of Honey, I think; and I certainly mean to get to it and to Every Heart a Doorway soon. I'll add Runtime, which had somehow escaped my notice, to the list. "The Liar" is a good story and I recommended it in my column. The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe is great, and I will be surprised (and pleased, mind you) if any of the stories I haven't yet read surpass it. I confess disappointment that Lavie Tidhar's "The Vanishing Kind", which I thought head and shoulders better than any novella I read last year save The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe didn't make the shortlist. The Ballad of Black Tom is strong work, and it would go second (as of now) on my (non-existent) ballot.
All that said, I think this is a pretty strong shortlist. And what a year for Tor.com, eh?
Novelette:
"The Long Fall Up", William Ledbetter (F&SF)
"Sooner or Later Everything Falls Into the Sea", Sarah Pinsker (Lightspeed)
"Red in Tooth and Cog", Cat Rambo (F&SF)
"Blood Grains Speak Through Memories", Jason Sanford (Beneath Ceaseless Skies)
The Jewel and Her Lapidary, Fran Wilde (Tor.com Publishing)
"You’ll Surely Drown Here If You Stay", Alyssa Wong (Uncanny)
"The Orangery", Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam (Beneath Ceaseless Skies)
Three stories that showed up on my list of potential Hugo nominees. ("Red in Tooth and Cog" was on my Short Story list (my word count for it is 7000, making it technically a Short Story but eligible for nomination as a Novelette).) The other two are "Blood Grains Speak Through Memories" and The Jewel and Her Lapidary. (Curious that in length those three stories are at the very bottom end of novelette, right in the middle, and at the very top end.) The remaining three stories are decent work that I didn't have listed among my favorites of the year, but none of them strike me as poor stories. So, again, a pretty strong shortlist, with my personal inclinations favoring either Cat Rambo's story or Jason Sanford's story; with Fran Wilde's a close third -- a win for any of those would make me happy.
UPDATE: Apparently there is no deadband for Nebula nominations, and "Red in Tooth and Cog" has been declared too short for novelette. It would have been nominated as a Short Story, but Cat Rambo graciously declined the nomination.
This is a shame from my point of view -- Rambo's story is (to my taste) definitely one of the best couple of stories on either the short story or novelette list, and so the shortlist is diminished by its absence. ("The Orangery", the replacement novelette, is a fine story, to be sure, but not as good as "Red in Tooth and Cog" (in my opinion).)
This also makes the overall shortlist even more Fantasy-heavy (vs. SF), which is of course totally allowed, but to my taste again a bit to be regretted. I do think the Nebulas recently are tending to lean a bit heavily to the Fantasy side.
Short Story:
"Our Talons Can Crush Galaxies", Brooke Bolander (Uncanny)
"Seasons of Glass and Iron", Amal El-Mohtar (The Starlit Wood)
"Sabbath Wine", Barbara Krasnoff (Clockwork Phoenix 5)
"Things With Beards", Sam J. Miller (Clarkesworld)
"This Is Not a Wardrobe Door", A. Merc Rustad (Fireside Magazine)
"A Fist of Permutations in Lightning and Wildflowers", Alyssa Wong (Tor.com)
"Welcome to the Medical Clinic at the Interplanetary Relay Station¦Hours Since the Last Patient Death: 0", Caroline M. Yoachim (Lightspeed)
The only story here that was on my personal Best of the Year list (and which is in my book) is Sam J. Miller's "Things With Beards", which thus is my choice to win from this list. I read all the rest, and, as with the novelettes, i think they are all fine work. Caroline Yoachim's story was one of those I considered for my book but which didn't make the cut -- and it's pretty funny too, which is nice to see. So I'd rank it second, with Brooke Bolander's intriguing story third. Oh, and I confess I haven't yet seen A. Merc Rustad's "This is Not a Wardrobe Door", so perhaps it will push its way onto my top list when I read it.
Bradbury:
Arrival, Directed by Denis Villeneuve, Screenplay by Eric Heisserer, 21 Laps Entertainment/FilmNation Entertainment/Lava Bear Films/Xenolinguistics
Doctor Strange, Directed by Scott Derrickson, Screenplay by Scott Derrickson & C. Robert Cargill, Marvel Studios/Walt Disney Studio Motion Pictures
Kubo and the Two Strings, Directed by Travis Knight, Screenplay by Mark Haimes & Chris Butler; Laika Entertainment
Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, Directed by Gareth Edwards, Written by Chris Weitz & Tony Gilroy; Lucusfilm/ Walt Disney Studio Motion Pictures
Westworld: ‘‘The Bicameral Mind’’, Directed by Jonathan Nolan, Written by Lisa Joy & Jonathan Nolan; HBO
Zootopia, Directed by Byron Howard, Rich Moore, & Jared Bush, Screenplay by Jared Bush & Phil Johnston; Walt Disney Pictures/Walt Disney Animation Studios
The only two movies I've seen from this list are Arrival and Rogue One. One of those things is not like the other (duh!), and, particularly when we consider that this award is supposed to be for the screenplay, not the finished film, I think it pretty obviously deserves to win. (That would be Arrival, of course.) OK, between those two, but I confess I really doubt any of the others are likely to be better (I do hope to see at least Kubo and possibly Doctor Strange sometime.)
Norton:
The Girl Who Drank the Moon, Kelly Barnhill (Algonquin Young Readers)
The Star-Touched Queen, Roshani Chokshi (St. Martin’s)
The Lie Tree, Frances Hardinge (Macmillan UK; Abrams)
Arabella of Mars, David D. Levine (Tor)
Railhead, Philip Reeve (Oxford University Press; Switch)
Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies, Lindsay Ribar (Kathy Dawson Books)
The Evil Wizard Smallbone, Delia Sherman (Candlewick)
Presented for information and congratulations. I haven't read any of these. I do have a copy of Arabella of Mars, and I do want to read it; likewise, I plan to get to Delia Sherman's novel sometime, and, I really should start to catch up on Frances Hardinge: I've loved what I've read by her, but I haven't read anything lately.
Here's the list (which is officially announced here.) I'll include my own comments. (Please note that as an affiliate member of SFWA I do not have a vote.)
Novel:
All the Birds in the Sky, Charlie Jane Anders (Tor; Titan)
Borderline, Mishell Baker (Saga)
The Obelisk Gate, N.K. Jemisin (Orbit US; Orbit UK)
Ninefox Gambit,Yoon Ha Lee (Solaris US; Solaris UK)
Everfair, Nisi Shawl (Tor)
As I said in my Hugo nomination suggestion post, I haven't read enough novels to speak with great authority. I did recommend All the Birds in the Sky, so I'm very happy with that nomination. Ninefox Gambit and Everfair are on my list of novels I mean to read soon and am excited about. I will confess abashedly that I have not even heard of Borderline (though I do recall enjoying a short story by Baker a couple of years ago). And of course I should also read The Obelisk Gate. Further comment will have to await a lot more reading.
Novella:
Runtime, S.B. Divya (Tor.com Publishing)
The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe, Kij Johnson (Tor.com Publishing)
The Ballad of Black Tom, Victor LaValle (Tor.com Publishing)
Every Heart a Doorway, Seanan McGuire (Tor.com Publishing)
"The Liar", John P. Murphy (F&SF)
A Taste of Honey, Kai Ashante Wilson (Tor.com Publishing)
Again, some guilty not-yet reads in this list -- I've got a copy of A Taste of Honey, I think; and I certainly mean to get to it and to Every Heart a Doorway soon. I'll add Runtime, which had somehow escaped my notice, to the list. "The Liar" is a good story and I recommended it in my column. The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe is great, and I will be surprised (and pleased, mind you) if any of the stories I haven't yet read surpass it. I confess disappointment that Lavie Tidhar's "The Vanishing Kind", which I thought head and shoulders better than any novella I read last year save The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe didn't make the shortlist. The Ballad of Black Tom is strong work, and it would go second (as of now) on my (non-existent) ballot.
All that said, I think this is a pretty strong shortlist. And what a year for Tor.com, eh?
Novelette:
"The Long Fall Up", William Ledbetter (F&SF)
"Sooner or Later Everything Falls Into the Sea", Sarah Pinsker (Lightspeed)
"Blood Grains Speak Through Memories", Jason Sanford (Beneath Ceaseless Skies)
The Jewel and Her Lapidary, Fran Wilde (Tor.com Publishing)
"You’ll Surely Drown Here If You Stay", Alyssa Wong (Uncanny)
"The Orangery", Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam (Beneath Ceaseless Skies)
Three stories that showed up on my list of potential Hugo nominees. ("Red in Tooth and Cog" was on my Short Story list (my word count for it is 7000, making it technically a Short Story but eligible for nomination as a Novelette).) The other two are "Blood Grains Speak Through Memories" and The Jewel and Her Lapidary. (Curious that in length those three stories are at the very bottom end of novelette, right in the middle, and at the very top end.) The remaining three stories are decent work that I didn't have listed among my favorites of the year, but none of them strike me as poor stories. So, again, a pretty strong shortlist, with my personal inclinations favoring either Cat Rambo's story or Jason Sanford's story; with Fran Wilde's a close third -- a win for any of those would make me happy.
UPDATE: Apparently there is no deadband for Nebula nominations, and "Red in Tooth and Cog" has been declared too short for novelette. It would have been nominated as a Short Story, but Cat Rambo graciously declined the nomination.
This is a shame from my point of view -- Rambo's story is (to my taste) definitely one of the best couple of stories on either the short story or novelette list, and so the shortlist is diminished by its absence. ("The Orangery", the replacement novelette, is a fine story, to be sure, but not as good as "Red in Tooth and Cog" (in my opinion).)
This also makes the overall shortlist even more Fantasy-heavy (vs. SF), which is of course totally allowed, but to my taste again a bit to be regretted. I do think the Nebulas recently are tending to lean a bit heavily to the Fantasy side.
Short Story:
"Our Talons Can Crush Galaxies", Brooke Bolander (Uncanny)
"Seasons of Glass and Iron", Amal El-Mohtar (The Starlit Wood)
"Sabbath Wine", Barbara Krasnoff (Clockwork Phoenix 5)
"Things With Beards", Sam J. Miller (Clarkesworld)
"This Is Not a Wardrobe Door", A. Merc Rustad (Fireside Magazine)
"A Fist of Permutations in Lightning and Wildflowers", Alyssa Wong (Tor.com)
"Welcome to the Medical Clinic at the Interplanetary Relay Station¦Hours Since the Last Patient Death: 0", Caroline M. Yoachim (Lightspeed)
The only story here that was on my personal Best of the Year list (and which is in my book) is Sam J. Miller's "Things With Beards", which thus is my choice to win from this list. I read all the rest, and, as with the novelettes, i think they are all fine work. Caroline Yoachim's story was one of those I considered for my book but which didn't make the cut -- and it's pretty funny too, which is nice to see. So I'd rank it second, with Brooke Bolander's intriguing story third. Oh, and I confess I haven't yet seen A. Merc Rustad's "This is Not a Wardrobe Door", so perhaps it will push its way onto my top list when I read it.
Bradbury:
Arrival, Directed by Denis Villeneuve, Screenplay by Eric Heisserer, 21 Laps Entertainment/FilmNation Entertainment/Lava Bear Films/Xenolinguistics
Doctor Strange, Directed by Scott Derrickson, Screenplay by Scott Derrickson & C. Robert Cargill, Marvel Studios/Walt Disney Studio Motion Pictures
Kubo and the Two Strings, Directed by Travis Knight, Screenplay by Mark Haimes & Chris Butler; Laika Entertainment
Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, Directed by Gareth Edwards, Written by Chris Weitz & Tony Gilroy; Lucusfilm/ Walt Disney Studio Motion Pictures
Westworld: ‘‘The Bicameral Mind’’, Directed by Jonathan Nolan, Written by Lisa Joy & Jonathan Nolan; HBO
Zootopia, Directed by Byron Howard, Rich Moore, & Jared Bush, Screenplay by Jared Bush & Phil Johnston; Walt Disney Pictures/Walt Disney Animation Studios
The only two movies I've seen from this list are Arrival and Rogue One. One of those things is not like the other (duh!), and, particularly when we consider that this award is supposed to be for the screenplay, not the finished film, I think it pretty obviously deserves to win. (That would be Arrival, of course.) OK, between those two, but I confess I really doubt any of the others are likely to be better (I do hope to see at least Kubo and possibly Doctor Strange sometime.)
Norton:
The Girl Who Drank the Moon, Kelly Barnhill (Algonquin Young Readers)
The Star-Touched Queen, Roshani Chokshi (St. Martin’s)
The Lie Tree, Frances Hardinge (Macmillan UK; Abrams)
Arabella of Mars, David D. Levine (Tor)
Railhead, Philip Reeve (Oxford University Press; Switch)
Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies, Lindsay Ribar (Kathy Dawson Books)
The Evil Wizard Smallbone, Delia Sherman (Candlewick)
Presented for information and congratulations. I haven't read any of these. I do have a copy of Arabella of Mars, and I do want to read it; likewise, I plan to get to Delia Sherman's novel sometime, and, I really should start to catch up on Frances Hardinge: I've loved what I've read by her, but I haven't read anything lately.
Thursday, February 16, 2017
Old Bestseller: The Helmet of Navarre, by Bertha Runkle
Old Bestseller: The Helmet of Navarre, by Bertha Runkle
a review by Rich Horton
Back this week to a true Old Bestseller. The Helmet of Navarre was the third bestselling novel of 1901 according to Publishers' Weekly. It was first serialized in the Century magazine in 1900, and The Century Company published the book the following year.
Bertha Runkle was not yet 21 when the Century accepted her novel, and indeed much was made of her youth when the book became a success. She was born in 1879 to Lucia Runkle, an editorial writer for the New York Tribune (and said to be the first woman on the editorial staff of a major metropolitan newspaper). Her father was a lawyer (he represented the Tribune). Her father died when Bertha was only 9. Lucia Runkle, besides her success as a journalist, was well connected in the literary world, serving as an advisor for Harper and Brothers, and collaborating with Charles Dudley Warner (hinself also a collaborator with Mark Twain, co-coiner of the term "The Gilded Age" (with Twain), and originator of the phrase "Everybody talks about the weather but nobody does anything about it" (inevitably often misattributed to Twain)) on the 30 volume Library of the World's Best Literature.
Bertha Runkle eventually wrote 6 novels, though none of the others had quite the success of The Helmet of Navarre. She married Captain Louis Bash in 1904, and lived with him in the Philippines (where he was stationed), San Antonio, and Washington, D.C. She died in 1958.
My copy appears possibly to be a first, though the cover isn't as nice as the image shown above. It does still have the script version of Runkle's name. It is illustrated, nicely enough, by Andre Castaigne, although the reproductions (in black and white) of the illustrations are a bit muddy.
The Helmet of Navarre is an historical novel, set in 1593, in Paris. The Catholic League is in control of Paris, but the rest of France is controlled by the King, Henry IV. Henry was born Catholic but raised as a Protestant by his mother, the Queen of Navarre (it's not clear to me if this Navarre was the French region near Navarre in Spain, or the Spanish Kingdom of Navarre, or if at that time the two Navarres were one). Henry has decided to convert permanently to Catholicism in order to remove that objection to his taking the crown. The Catholic League is not entirely happy about this -- they don't believe Henry is a true Catholic, and anyway they will lose power. All this is historical background I gleaned from Wikipedia -- the book doesn't go into nearly that much detail (though one gathers a lot of the basics from it).
The novel is told, very engagingly, in the voice of Félix Broux, a very young man (16 or 17?) who has come to Paris from provincial St. Quentin to serve his beloved master, the Duc de Saint Quentin. (His father is Master of the Forest for the Duc, and has only now reluctantly allowed Félix to leave the estate.) The Duc is in Paris, supporting the King, which puts his life in danger, because Paris is a Catholic League city. However, when Félix tries to gain the Duc's attention, he is rebuffed, especially by the young man who accompanies him, whom Félix assumes is his once estranged son, the Comte de Mar. Félix finds lodgings, across from a house rumored to be haunted by Huegeonots murdered in the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre, and indeed in the night he sees three people across the way, who appear to be ghosts.
One thing leads to another, and Félix ends up in the haunted house, where he meets three young men, who turn out to be alive enough. He is almost killed for his pains, but one noble young man spares his life. Félix has learned that this trio has plans to lure the Duc's assistant, Lucas, into the open to fight a duel, over a woman. Lucas seems a coward. Félix agrees to help them, but then he learns from another plotter that in fact the plan is to entice the Duc out to be murdered. Although Félix swore to keep the plotters' plans secret, he cannot allow this to go on, so he forces his way into the Duc's presence and reveals the plan -- which is all the more wrenching because it turns out that the nobleman who had saved Félix' life is in fact the Duc's son, while the rude young man Félix had met in the Duc's company is Lucas.
The upshot is, of course, that the Comte de Mar was innocent of the plot to kill the Duc -- this was hatched by Lucas and by one of the Comte's supposed friends. Félix manages to reconcile the Duc and the Comte, and there is an encounter with Lucas and the other plotter -- one man is killed, but Lucas escapes. We learn the real reason for the estrangement between the Comte and his father is that the son is in love with Lorance de Montluc, the beautiful niece of the Duc de Mayenne, leader of the Catholic League. The rest of the novel, then, involves Mar's desperate attempts to rendezvous with Lorance, and her concern that she will be married off -- perhaps even to Lucas, who is secretly working for Mayenne. Meanwhile the Duc dodges assassination attempts while maneuvering to strengthen King Henry's position. Félix is involved in much of this -- dressing up as a woman (as shown in the illustration here), lurking in secret passages, swordfighting, spying on the slimy Lucas; while Mar vows to be a better man, loyal to the King, but also to marry Mlle. de Montluc despite her family loyalty to the King's enemies.
Of course all works out nicely, over a very brief period of time (the action takes place over just a few days). The Comte gets his lady, Félix is established as a highly trusted retainer, the Duc gains back a son he can be proud of, and of course his efforts for his King bear fruit. The general historical outline is pretty accurate, and indeed Henry did convert (or reconvert) to Catholicism (famously saying "The Crown is worth a Mass"); and he turned out to be a very good King, among other things promulgating the Edict of Nantes, which guaranteed more rights to Protestants (which ended up getting him assassinated by a Catholic fanatic).
This is a very fun historical romp/romance. Of course it is cliché ridden, the action is often implausible, etc. etc. -- all part of the standard expectations for the genre. But it's nicely told, Félix' voice is witty and engaging, the love affair is typical enough but still sweet; the villains (except for Lucas) are plausible and fairly honorable. The descriptions of Paris and Paris life in the late 16th Century ring at least somewhat true to me. I think it deserved its sales, and it seems to me it will still entertain contemporary readers who go in for this sort of thing.
a review by Rich Horton
Back this week to a true Old Bestseller. The Helmet of Navarre was the third bestselling novel of 1901 according to Publishers' Weekly. It was first serialized in the Century magazine in 1900, and The Century Company published the book the following year.
Bertha Runkle was not yet 21 when the Century accepted her novel, and indeed much was made of her youth when the book became a success. She was born in 1879 to Lucia Runkle, an editorial writer for the New York Tribune (and said to be the first woman on the editorial staff of a major metropolitan newspaper). Her father was a lawyer (he represented the Tribune). Her father died when Bertha was only 9. Lucia Runkle, besides her success as a journalist, was well connected in the literary world, serving as an advisor for Harper and Brothers, and collaborating with Charles Dudley Warner (hinself also a collaborator with Mark Twain, co-coiner of the term "The Gilded Age" (with Twain), and originator of the phrase "Everybody talks about the weather but nobody does anything about it" (inevitably often misattributed to Twain)) on the 30 volume Library of the World's Best Literature.Bertha Runkle eventually wrote 6 novels, though none of the others had quite the success of The Helmet of Navarre. She married Captain Louis Bash in 1904, and lived with him in the Philippines (where he was stationed), San Antonio, and Washington, D.C. She died in 1958.
My copy appears possibly to be a first, though the cover isn't as nice as the image shown above. It does still have the script version of Runkle's name. It is illustrated, nicely enough, by Andre Castaigne, although the reproductions (in black and white) of the illustrations are a bit muddy.
The Helmet of Navarre is an historical novel, set in 1593, in Paris. The Catholic League is in control of Paris, but the rest of France is controlled by the King, Henry IV. Henry was born Catholic but raised as a Protestant by his mother, the Queen of Navarre (it's not clear to me if this Navarre was the French region near Navarre in Spain, or the Spanish Kingdom of Navarre, or if at that time the two Navarres were one). Henry has decided to convert permanently to Catholicism in order to remove that objection to his taking the crown. The Catholic League is not entirely happy about this -- they don't believe Henry is a true Catholic, and anyway they will lose power. All this is historical background I gleaned from Wikipedia -- the book doesn't go into nearly that much detail (though one gathers a lot of the basics from it).
The novel is told, very engagingly, in the voice of Félix Broux, a very young man (16 or 17?) who has come to Paris from provincial St. Quentin to serve his beloved master, the Duc de Saint Quentin. (His father is Master of the Forest for the Duc, and has only now reluctantly allowed Félix to leave the estate.) The Duc is in Paris, supporting the King, which puts his life in danger, because Paris is a Catholic League city. However, when Félix tries to gain the Duc's attention, he is rebuffed, especially by the young man who accompanies him, whom Félix assumes is his once estranged son, the Comte de Mar. Félix finds lodgings, across from a house rumored to be haunted by Huegeonots murdered in the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre, and indeed in the night he sees three people across the way, who appear to be ghosts.One thing leads to another, and Félix ends up in the haunted house, where he meets three young men, who turn out to be alive enough. He is almost killed for his pains, but one noble young man spares his life. Félix has learned that this trio has plans to lure the Duc's assistant, Lucas, into the open to fight a duel, over a woman. Lucas seems a coward. Félix agrees to help them, but then he learns from another plotter that in fact the plan is to entice the Duc out to be murdered. Although Félix swore to keep the plotters' plans secret, he cannot allow this to go on, so he forces his way into the Duc's presence and reveals the plan -- which is all the more wrenching because it turns out that the nobleman who had saved Félix' life is in fact the Duc's son, while the rude young man Félix had met in the Duc's company is Lucas.
 |
| (illustration by Andre Castaigne) |
Of course all works out nicely, over a very brief period of time (the action takes place over just a few days). The Comte gets his lady, Félix is established as a highly trusted retainer, the Duc gains back a son he can be proud of, and of course his efforts for his King bear fruit. The general historical outline is pretty accurate, and indeed Henry did convert (or reconvert) to Catholicism (famously saying "The Crown is worth a Mass"); and he turned out to be a very good King, among other things promulgating the Edict of Nantes, which guaranteed more rights to Protestants (which ended up getting him assassinated by a Catholic fanatic).
This is a very fun historical romp/romance. Of course it is cliché ridden, the action is often implausible, etc. etc. -- all part of the standard expectations for the genre. But it's nicely told, Félix' voice is witty and engaging, the love affair is typical enough but still sweet; the villains (except for Lucas) are plausible and fairly honorable. The descriptions of Paris and Paris life in the late 16th Century ring at least somewhat true to me. I think it deserved its sales, and it seems to me it will still entertain contemporary readers who go in for this sort of thing.
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