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Jun. 30th, 2013 11:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
issenlloBetwixt and Between, Mycroft, Sherlock, John, Sherlock, by ivywatcher
An Empty Station, Lestrade, John, Sherlock, Reichenbach, by ivywatcher
All destinations approximate, general, humour, time-travel, Avengers, by jonesandashes, pollyrepeat
***
Am still reading Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel, as I have been for the last few weeks. It's not bad, definitely has a whiff of Judith Merkle Riley that I appreciate (except JMR wrote from the POV of female characters which I have an absolute soft spot for) and that I am sort of cognizant that Mantel is relating the events leading to a super-important part of Britain's history. And it's entertaining. But I definitely have to take it in small doses because present tense narratives - grrr. Do not like.
Picked up this book (haven't started it) John Saturnall's Feast by a (as one might guess) man called Lawrence Norfolk. Apparently A.S. Byatt said it's "Brilliant" on the cover, which reminds me that I really ought to take such recs with a liberal pinch of salt.
Apparently (from the blurb) the protagonist's mother once told her son of an ancient Feast, etc, and in the book the protagonist will one day serve such a feast. I was seduced by the idea of a man carrying out his mother's legacy and serving loads of lovely food. It was a moment of weakness.
I'm getting more and more leery as I browse through the book. Here's the third to fifth paragraphs from the first page:
Ben's grin stretched his face like the yawn of a surly horse. He flexed his aching shoulders.
I don't know how (surly) horses yawn but it doesn't seem to gell with the idea that Ben's grinning.
Behind the driver came a a piebald, then a bay, then two dark brown ponies. But Ben's gaze was fixed on the rear. A mule trailed behind the others. A mule that appeared to carry nothing more than a pile of rain-soaked rangs. Even an unladen beast had to eat, Ben told himself. The driver would be glad of his business. He glanced up the slope to the village.
All right, I give in. Go on, tell us more about this mule. A mule that was not carrying a full load. A mule that has something funny on its back. A mule whose unladen state inexplicably caused Ben to think of feeding it, although Ben was not roused to the same thought by the (presumably) laden horses and ponies.
Also, I'm not sure which person is "he" in that last sentence.
No lights showed among the cottages. No smoke rose from the chimneys. Nothing moved on the slopes that climbed to the dark trees far above. No one knew what happened, the Flitwick men had said the previous night at the inn. Not a soul had been up to Buckland all winter.
Okay, now this repetition* has ceased being cute! You need an editor, man. And what the heck are "slopes that climbed to the dark trees"?
I see from the other bits and blurbs on the book cover that the author is a literary writer. Who decided to write fantasy. This is a literary writer?!
...well, I haven't started reading this, as I said: still on Mantel and also rereading Harry Potter as a sort of undemanding enjoyment. I'll give it a go but I must say some bits of the book are already making me pissed off.
*I've seen nice examples of repetition in prose working very well. This is not one of them.
An Empty Station, Lestrade, John, Sherlock, Reichenbach, by ivywatcher
All destinations approximate, general, humour, time-travel, Avengers, by jonesandashes, pollyrepeat
***
Am still reading Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel, as I have been for the last few weeks. It's not bad, definitely has a whiff of Judith Merkle Riley that I appreciate (except JMR wrote from the POV of female characters which I have an absolute soft spot for) and that I am sort of cognizant that Mantel is relating the events leading to a super-important part of Britain's history. And it's entertaining. But I definitely have to take it in small doses because present tense narratives - grrr. Do not like.
Picked up this book (haven't started it) John Saturnall's Feast by a (as one might guess) man called Lawrence Norfolk. Apparently A.S. Byatt said it's "Brilliant" on the cover, which reminds me that I really ought to take such recs with a liberal pinch of salt.
Apparently (from the blurb) the protagonist's mother once told her son of an ancient Feast, etc, and in the book the protagonist will one day serve such a feast. I was seduced by the idea of a man carrying out his mother's legacy and serving loads of lovely food. It was a moment of weakness.
I'm getting more and more leery as I browse through the book. Here's the third to fifth paragraphs from the first page:
Ben's grin stretched his face like the yawn of a surly horse. He flexed his aching shoulders.
I don't know how (surly) horses yawn but it doesn't seem to gell with the idea that Ben's grinning.
Behind the driver came a a piebald, then a bay, then two dark brown ponies. But Ben's gaze was fixed on the rear. A mule trailed behind the others. A mule that appeared to carry nothing more than a pile of rain-soaked rangs. Even an unladen beast had to eat, Ben told himself. The driver would be glad of his business. He glanced up the slope to the village.
All right, I give in. Go on, tell us more about this mule. A mule that was not carrying a full load. A mule that has something funny on its back. A mule whose unladen state inexplicably caused Ben to think of feeding it, although Ben was not roused to the same thought by the (presumably) laden horses and ponies.
Also, I'm not sure which person is "he" in that last sentence.
No lights showed among the cottages. No smoke rose from the chimneys. Nothing moved on the slopes that climbed to the dark trees far above. No one knew what happened, the Flitwick men had said the previous night at the inn. Not a soul had been up to Buckland all winter.
Okay, now this repetition* has ceased being cute! You need an editor, man. And what the heck are "slopes that climbed to the dark trees"?
I see from the other bits and blurbs on the book cover that the author is a literary writer. Who decided to write fantasy. This is a literary writer?!
...well, I haven't started reading this, as I said: still on Mantel and also rereading Harry Potter as a sort of undemanding enjoyment. I'll give it a go but I must say some bits of the book are already making me pissed off.
*I've seen nice examples of repetition in prose working very well. This is not one of them.