Clifford D. Simak. Our Children’s Children (1974)

    Clifford D. Simak. Our Children’s Children (1974) The what-if: Suppose our descendants 500 years in the future come back, trying to escape aliens that are killing them off. Simak plots a movie-like story, focussing on the US government’s response, with meanwhile-elsewhere scenes to keep us up to date on the overall picture. The structure of the novel, the style, and the characterisation are strictly pulp, but well done. The story has a cop-out ending: the monsters have somehow found a way to move in time also, and do so whenever threatened. So they disappear. Simak wrote himself into a corner, making the monsters such efficient killing machines that some such resolution was the only way out. With careful development of the characters and some of the subplots, the book would make a good B movie. ** (2008)

Earl Chapin May. Model Railroads in the Home (1939)

     Earl Chapin May. Model Railroads in the Home (1939) It’s difficult to decide what to make of this book. The title promises practical advice, but there is hardly any. What we get instead is an arch, wannabe-witty survey of the model railroading of the time, with names dropping right and left, and an unsubtle tone of invitation to join the inner circle of true devotees. Some of the history is interesting, and if combined with other sources would enable a more complete account of early model railroads than we now have. The plates are interesting, too, but the captions are inadequate, and there is no attempt whatsoever to explain what the plates depict.
     Of practical advice on what to do and how to do there is almost none. Of sycophantic fawning over the elite modellers that May has met there is much. I paid $2 for this book in October 1972, or about $10 in today’s money. Too much, even if considered as a curio. May seems to be heavily influenced by Alexander Woollcott and other “witty” writers of the Algonquin Round table group, who operated on the assumption that anything said wittily was worth writing down, no matter how irrelevant or devoid of substance. I gave up about half way through the book. Bomb (2008)

Sarah Paretsky, ed. Women on the Case (1995)

     Sarah Paretsky, ed. Women on the Case (1995) The stories in this collection, even those written by Europeans and others, are “American”: they have a pulp fiction feel to them, often end in punch lines, focus on the sensational and uncommon rather than the ordinary, and often provide all the gory details of violence. Except for the subject matter, which is almost invariably a female ‘tec and (usually) victim, these stories could have been written by men. They vary in skill. One effect of reading a lot of short stories at once is to become acutely aware of the difference between writing and typing, and the rather peripheral role of plot. A good bed-time read. * to *** (2008)

L. T. C. Rolt. The Cornish Giant (1960)

L. T. C. Rolt. The Cornish Giant (1960) Richard Trevithick has been overshadowed by the Stephensons, who are generally credited with building first commercially viable steam railway, and that is usually interpreted to mean that they built the first steam locomotive. Actually, Trevithick did that, and between his demonstration of how “strong steam” could drive a locomotive and the Stephensons’ construction of The Rocket, several other builders made steam locomotives. Rolt’s biography, based on two earlier and more complete books, corrects this impression.
     Rolt also explains why Trevithick could not capitalise on his many inventions: he was a man of impetuous temper, a wide range of interests, and too much naive trust in his business partners. His powers of invention were prodigious, with little ability (or desire, it seems) to stay focussed on a project to its practical and commercial success. A great man limited by character traits he could not or would not control.
     Rolt’s prose is workmanlike and clear; the intended audience appears to be middle and high school students. The plates and drawings are well reproduced, but could benefit from extended captions explaining the operations of the machines. A good book, but not a great one, it is useful for anyone who wants to become acquainted with Trevithick. **½ (2008)

Leonard Maltin, ed. Leonard Maltin’s 2008 Movie Guide (2007)

     Leonard Maltin, ed. Leonard Maltin’s 2008 Movie Guide (2007) This is a frustrating guide. I’ve read my way from the title page to the last page. [Yeah, I know, I’m obsessive]. While it is a good guide to currently available or viewable movies, the standards of judgement are inconsistent. Maltin uses several reviewers (he obviously can’t watch even a few hundred new movies himself). But these reviewers vary in their standards. That’s especially obvious for titles receiving mild praise, which some reviewers interpret as two stars, and others as 2½ or even 3 stars (out of four). Some reviewers seem more attuned to the cinematic values of a title, others to its themes. It would help a lot if each review were followed by initials, that way the reader would get a better sense of how the review would relate to his own tastes and standards.
     By the way, Maltin (or his reviewer) still doesn’t get science fiction. The SF movies generally most highly rated are just oaters in SF costumes. He also overrates actors, underrating of the power of a director (and editor) to make an actor look good or bad. Still, this reference is the best available, if only because of its sheer size: this version covers over 17,000 titles. (Other Guides cover another several thousand additional titles not listed here). It also tells of variations in length or edition. **½ (2008)

Diane Mott Davidson. The Cereal Murders (1993)

     Diane Mott Davidson. The Cereal Murders (1993) Another formula book, this time a mystery whose ‘tec is a single mother (survivor of an abusive marriage) who makes her living in Aspen Meadows, Colorado, by catering to those who pay more when the menu is written in French. However, unlike Baldacci, Mott Davidson can write.
     Goldilocks Bear (yes, that’s her name) is a pleasant person with enough self-respect to get good and angry when necessary, and enough self-knowledge and confidence to fall in love when the right man (Tom Schulz, a cop, whom she met in a previous book) presents himself. Tom is a bit too good to be true, being both a superb lover and a good cook, and deeply respectful of Goldy’s feelings. The perpetrator is a bit too monomaniacal and psychologically twisted for credibility. Three people die because he wants his daughter to go to Harvard, which requires that she rank first in the graduating class. At least Mott Davidson has the sense to let the Denver police express the incredulity the reader must feel, and so defuse it.
     The schtick in this series is the food: Goldy not only describes food in vivid detail, she also gives us her recipes, which I (despite my culinary dunciness) could understand, and which seem more than feasible. A pleasant read, which with its two predecessors could make a pleasant season of TV. **½ (2008)

David Baldacci. The Christmas Train (2002)

     

 David Baldacci. The Christmas Train (2002) Tom Langdon, barred from flying because of some misunderstanding with airport security, takes the train from New York to L.A. Eleanor Carter, his ex who walked out on him in Tel Aviv because he wouldn’t commit, is also on the train, and after the usual expressions of anger etc, they make up and presumably live happily ever after. Along the way there is an avalanche that blocks the train on Raton Pass, a wedding, a mysterious thief, assorted salt-of-the-railway characters, and other nonsense.
     This is a manufactured book. Baldacci never misses an opportunity to tell when he should show, nor to explain when he should suggest. He inserts chunks of information (and propaganda) about Amtrak via “conversations” with Amtrak employees and former employees. He avoids offending anyone, of whatever race, religion, gender, or social status. His attempts at tension and foreboding consist of weather forecasts and sudden hidden-camera bits of narration. His metaphors are 99.4%-pure cliche. In a word, this is a Harlequin Romance plus TV movie scenario told from a male point of view.
     The best thing about it is the plot, which Baldacci undercuts by making the meeting and reconciliation between Tom and Eleanor a set-up scripted and directed by Max, the director for whom Eleanor is supposedly revising a script. According to the jacket copy, Baldacci is a multiple NYT best seller, has sold 40 million copies of his books in 35 languages, and has assorted other support for the inevitable inference that because he sells a lot of books he is a great writer. If his product represents what airport and beach literature has become, we are in serious trouble. * (2008)