Book Review: The Hand of Oberon by Roger Zelazny

Book #2 of 2021:

The Hand of Oberon by Roger Zelazny (The Chronicles of Amber #4)

These novels are short enough that it’s never a major investment to continue on with the series, but that also means each volume has limited space to really wow a reader. In this fourth book, a lot of that valuable real estate is squandered on our protagonist needlessly recapping previous events to either us or another character, and the remaining balance is shifted too far towards the latest backstabbing family drama and away from the neat multiverse weirdness inherent in the setting. (Why does Corwin still trust any of his siblings, honestly? And why does author Roger Zelazny expect us to care about each soapy betrayal as though it were shattering any actual sense of established loyalty and not simply the latest unmotivated heel turn?)

I’ve heard the next title brings the initial storyline to a close, but at this point it’s an open question whether I’ll then bother with the second arc or not.

[Content warning for incest and sexism including slurs.]

★★☆☆☆

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Movie Review: Doctor Who: Revolution of the Daleks (2021)

Movie #1 of 2021:

Doctor Who: Revolution of the Daleks (2021)

Although there are definitely worse Doctor Who specials, this new one doesn’t do much to distinguish itself either. Captain Jack’s long-awaited reunion with the Doctor seems almost like an afterthought, and the overall episode is so focused on explaining plot logistics that it seldom makes room for those characters who should be at its heart — especially the two companions who end up departing the show at the end. (That’s more of a spoiler than I’d usually mention in a review, but it was heavily publicized in advance and is probably the most meaningful development of the hour, so I feel it’s fair game to discuss critically.)

Ten months have apparently passed since the fam last saw the Doc, but the script offers no real indication of what they’ve been doing or how their lives have changed in the meantime. And with no signs of friends or relations, returning or otherwise, it’s hard to process everyone’s ultimate decision to stay or not to any concrete degree. That missing level of personal detail has always been a weakness of the Chibnall era, and I hope that a less-crowded TARDIS going forward will yield opportunities to dig deeper into the remaining traveler. As is, Jack’s offhand and off-screen comment that he’s sticking around on earth to meet up with his old Torchwood pal Gwen Cooper is more engaging than nearly anything else in this excursion, drawing as it does on the kind of lived-in dynamic which the writers have never taken the time to establish for the newer cast.

An interesting story could have alleviated or distracted from these concerns, but instead we’re facing merely the latest alien invasion, a fairly rote adventure with few of the unique flourishes advanced by 2019’s Resolution. (One rare exception: that cool effects shot of a stream of Daleks flying into a hovering policebox.) The return of Chris Noth as antagonist Jack Robertson isn’t especially memorable — we don’t even get any fun lines about the two Jacks running around — and there are the usual continuity problems of no one recognizing the pepperpot baddies and all the Doctor’s former allies picking this week to utterly ignore the news. We’ll need to wait longer to learn how the COVID-19 pandemic is manifesting in the Whonverse too, since filming was completed in early 2020 before any global lockdowns.

This isn’t by any means a significantly-flawed installment of Doctor Who, and the series is a dependable sort of comfort food particularly in this typically low-stakes holiday form. But at its best the franchise can push brilliantly in exciting new directions, and it’s disappointing that the first televised outing after the revelations of season 12 turns out to be so staid.

★★★☆☆

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Book Review: Doctor Who: Time Lord Victorious: All Flesh is Grass by Una McCormack

Book #1 of 2021:

Doctor Who: Time Lord Victorious: All Flesh is Grass by Una McCormack

The second and final Time Lord Victorious novel offers a generally satisfying resolution to this sprawling Doctor Who multimedia experiment, although there are still a few open areas that will likely be shaded in by future releases of some sort or another. The project ultimately boils down to the Tenth Doctor journeying back to the dawn of time after the events of The Waters of Mars and trying to stop the beings who introduced life expectancy into the universe, and here’s where he’s finally thwarted by two of his previous incarnations and an assortment of unlikely allies.

Truth be told, I feel as though this book could have delivered even more crossover, pulling from all of the different comics and audio dramas and everything for a suitably epic finale, but instead we mostly just get vampires and Daleks — and the erstwhile Ood assassin Brian — going into a battle that plays out largely as a steady sequence of spaceships exploding. All three of the Doctors seem too callous toward the high body count, and author Una McCormack’s choice to officially describe them in text by number (Eighth Doctor, etc.) is odd for the franchise albeit understandable to prevent reader confusion.

Like usual for this type of story, the scenes when various regenerations of the same Time Lord draw together to banter or exchange grim knowing glances are definitely worthwhile, and the concluding chapters in particular do a good job of illustrating each one’s respective moment along their shared character history. As an overall narrative venture, the Time Lord Victorious arc has consistently struggled to come across as more than a cash-grab curiosity, and I can’t imagine any critics having their minds changed by the present volume. Nevertheless, it represents a reasonably solid ending that I do think I’d recommend for anyone who’s been following the twisting adventure throughout.

★★★☆☆

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Book Review: Rhythm of War by Brandon Sanderson

Book #303 of 2020:

Rhythm of War by Brandon Sanderson (The Stormlight Archive #4)

And so my 2020 comes to a close with another 1000+ page tome, the newest release in author Brandon Sanderson’s massive Stormlight Archive, which is increasingly inseparable from his even larger super-series linking together everything in the multiverse Cosmere setting. (Earlier stories like Elantris or the original Mistborn trilogy continue to stand fine on their own, but I can’t imagine anyone completely following and enjoying the Stormlight books at this point without having read those ones first. On the other hand, it turns out that the recent Dawnshard novella set in this world isn’t particularly relevant to any major developments in Rhythm of War, although it’s highly enjoyable in its own right and will presumably impact the main sequence eventually.)

Longtime Sanderson readers can expect to find his customary skill at fusing sharply-drawn character arcs with fascinating worldbuilding, high-octane action sequences, and intriguing revelations about the cosmere. I love how much space is devoted to cool new implications of the Rosharan magical system, like how a person’s control of gravity can be stored up and used to power elevators and flying ships, which seems to be where the latest Mistborn sequels have been trending too. Not every writer could bring their sword-and-sorcery fundamentals forward into the technology of a scientific era without missing a beat, but this one makes it look easy.

I also deeply appreciate how the current volume places a great deal of care on exploring aspects of mental health that are recognizable despite not being explicitly named, from depression to dissociative identity disorder to PTSD to nonverbal autism or trauma response to neurodivergence in general. That’s not entirely new for the decalogy, but it feels more focused and intentional here, and — as with the portrayal of disability in Dawnshard — suggests a lot of behind-the-scenes effort to get the representation right. I suspect many people will see reflections of themselves and their own struggles in these fantasy heroes, which is an outstanding accomplishment for the genre. Sanderson has truly been growing and listening over his past few books, and it’s wonderful to see him writing a more empathetic and inclusive fiction with no appreciable decline in storytelling talent or effectiveness.

The usual Stormlight critiques do still apply, like a fairly slow-moving plot and the brief check-in chapters that are essentially just setup for the future rather than anything satisfying in the present. As in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, it’s difficult for an individual title to especially shine on its own terms when it’s tasked with servicing some sprawling continuity of connected projects as well. And although I enjoy uncovering various historical secrets along with the protagonists, it does seem as though we should know more of them already by the time we’re 40% through a planned ten-novel storyline — a size which represents a daunting investment even ignoring all the additional related works. Yet these quibbles are both minor and familiar, and the overall narrative remains immersive and distinctive enough to wholly justify coming back to Roshar again.

[Disclosure: I’m Facebook friends with this author.]

★★★★☆

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Movie Review: Soul (2020)

Movie #16 of 2020:

Soul (2020)

I’ve half-watched a lot of Disney movies this year — because of a certain pandemic and a certain toddler — but I haven’t paid close enough attention to most titles to feel as though I should count them or write a proper review. This new Pixar film is the rare exception, a visually gorgeous depiction of black life in New York City that abruptly detours into an afterlife of convoluted bureaucracy straight out of The Good Place. And if you couldn’t tell from the marketing, it’s the latest in an unfortunate trend of animated features that make their black protagonists spend the majority of screentime not actually looking like black people. Here, Joe Gardner (voiced by Jamie Foxx) transforms first into a blue toothpaste-blob of a spirit, and then later into a cat when he misjudges his jailbreak return to earth and winds up in the wrong body. Meanwhile, the mentee soul accompanying him (Tina Fey) arrives as Joe, and proceeds to embarrass him by piloting his form around haphazardly while they scramble to get him back to himself.

It’s a pretty problematic plot development, and one which could have been remedied at least somewhat by casting another black performer in Fey’s role, a being who has literally not yet been born and nominally doesn’t have a race or gender but reads as a white woman in her performance. Still, we get to see a lot of our hero and his community from the outside, and particular scenes like the one set in a neighborhood barbershop crackle with lived-in authenticity. I also love the use of jazz music throughout, and I hope that the studio goes on to release further diverse stories in this vein. As their first project to feature a black lead, Soul isn’t flawless, and I don’t know if the existential crisis at the heart of its narrative is especially child-friendly (although I assume the talking animal will be a hit). As an adult viewer, I can’t help but pick at the inconsistencies in the rules of its cosmology and wish that the topic of race had been approached more carefully by the producers.

★★★☆☆

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Book Review: The Forgotten Sisters by Shannon Hale

Book #302 of 2020:

The Forgotten Sisters by Shannon Hale (Princess Academy #3)

This final Princess Academy novel improves in its back half, but for too long it doesn’t really feel organically motivated as a continuation of the first two volumes. There aren’t any lingering plot threads that get picked up here, and the most interesting new developments can’t help but read like retcons of the setting’s history. Although still a solid early YA piece that delivers a great conclusion for the story at hand, it’s a little lacking in the wider impact one might expect for the apparent sendoff to these characters and their world.

This book: ★★★☆☆

Overall series: ★★★★☆

Individual titles ranked: 2 > 1 > 3

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Book Review: The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York by Robert A. Caro

Book #301 of 2020:

The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York by Robert A. Caro

A fascinating deep dive into the decades-long career of the official who designed and built many of the parks and highways around New York City and state. Robert Moses was a visionary architect who revolutionized urban design and introduced novelties like nursing stations for breastfeeding mothers, but he was also stubborn and cruel, forcibly displacing thousands of low-income families from their homes to make way for his projects and refusing to invest significant resources into majority-black neighborhoods. Most especially, author Robert A. Caro shows how his subject ruthlessly seized and wielded power, gaining an extraordinary degree of decision-making authority despite never being elected to any office.

Reading this 1974 biography in December 2020, it’s hard not to fixate on the Trumpian parallels. Like our 45th president, that earlier New York businessman had a terrifying instinct for the weaknesses of unwritten precedent, such that he was able to use his appointed positions to take outlandish steps that no one had thought to outlaw before. He would find and exercise obscure procedures of eminent domain that had been intended by the legislature to merely apply in sparsely-populated rural settings but technically were not so limited, or on occasion draft his own legal loopholes for a friendly politician to introduce, only springing the subtle trap and revealing his new scope of sovereignty once the proposal had been officially passed into law. He essentially carved out an entire shadow government for himself, staffed with die-hard loyalists, and found strategies to guard against any accountability. He pioneered the issuance of public bonds to bankroll his ventures, amassing such a stranglehold on available funding that mayors and governors were forced to partner with him and name him and his flunkies to his desired committees if they wanted to have any major infrastructure achievements to show voters during their tenure.

Moses was also supremely arrogant, feuding with the city planners and outside researchers who came to realize that many of his transportation initiatives were actually making gridlock and traffic delays worse. For the erstwhile builder, the solution to congestion was always to widen a road or erect another bridge, which he never saw could only be a stopgap measure. And he didn’t just decline to build new subways or bus lanes that would have reduced the volume of cars on the street; he purposefully engineered his developments so that there wouldn’t be cost-effective ways for anyone to add those features sometime further on. As when he long-resisted adopting a necessary hearing aid later in life, Robert Moses would resolutely insist on the universe bending itself to his will rather than the other way around.

Caro’s tome is not for the faint-of-heart; it weighs in at 1300+ pages or 66 hours as an audiobook on regular speed and it earns every iota of this space with the writer’s careful research and reporting. The book was a blow to the reputation of its title figure who rejected many of its claims, and Caro seems to be almost shoring up evidence in anticipation of that ensuing controversy. But it’s worth the time to follow along, and the result is an intimate portrait of a complicated man through his works, as well as a capsule of the changing face of early twentieth-century New York.

[Content warning for racism, ableism, and antisemitism, including slurs.]

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★★★★☆

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Movie Review: Wonder Woman 1984

Movie #15 of 2020:

Wonder Woman 1984 (2020)

I like a few isolated parts of this superhero sequel (mostly involving Pedro Pascal and Kristen Wiig’s respective acting choices) but overall it’s a huge mess whose thematic incoherence at least keeps pace with all the plot holes. What exactly is the macro-goal of our villainous thinly-veiled Trump figure, or the micro-justifications for some of the prices he demands for granting wishes? Why does he himself ask to be the Dreamstone, especially given that its power is clearly able to reward multiple requests from the same person? Why does this film completely gloss over its protagonist violating the bodily consent of that poor nameless engineer?

I’ve got more of these questions — I kept up a running thread on Twitter while I watched — but they all boil down to the fact that this blockbuster’s script goes to some baffling places that seriously undermine the story it’s nominally trying to tell. The logic never tracks, and the ultimate moral seems to be that it’s bad to want things: not to get them unfairly or without hard work, but just to crave them at all. That’s a weird fit for a genre that’s literally built on empowerment fantasies, and it’s not even developed consistently enough throughout that it could be appreciated as subversive.

Instead this is a movie that practically demands you not think too hard about anything it shows, yet neglects to provide enough spectacle to ever merit that level of distraction either. Even the 80s setting doesn’t feel as cheesily retro as some comparable recent period pieces like Stranger Things or Captain Marvel. It’s a frustrating viewing experience, especially as a follow-up to one of the brighter spots in the DC Extended Universe.

[Content warning for queerbaiting and racism.]

★★☆☆☆

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TV Review: The Office, season 9

TV #57 of 2020:

The Office, season 9

This final season recovers substantially from the weaker entries that it follows, and improves further as it approaches the catharsis of the series ending. At the end of the day I still don’t know if I can say that it’s great — this is, after all, the zanier mode of the show that has no problem shooting a lazy salesman with bull tranquilizers and sliding him down several flights of stairs to get him to see a client — but I admire how it takes risks that The Office never has before, even if those choices remain controversial and not entirely effective. Primarily, the writers transform the camera-people from the sporadically-justified framing device they had previously been to actual characters who can interact with our leads, and they finally introduce legitimate conflict and stakes into Jim and Pam’s happily-ever-after.

Some fans, of course, hate this. It’s certainly a big turnaround for the program! And it’s an element that’s rather light on jokes, playing into the sadder notes of the early years in place of the manic comic energy that otherwise defines this era of the sitcom. But there’s a welcome nuance to the Halperts navigating their opposing visions for their family’s future, and although Brian the boom guy turns out to be a bust of a concept who’s barely more sketched-in as a viable romantic alternative than last season’s Cathy the temp, the couples counseling and tense conversations add a certain realistic poignancy to a central relationship that’s coasted for far too long. (I think I appreciate this storyline more now that I’m a married thirty-something parent myself, too.)

That’s the closest we get to genuine pathos for this stretch of episodes, unfortunately. Dwight has a few nice moments here and there, but his arc is too wrapped up in the setup for a proposed spinoff that never ultimately comes to fruition. Kelly and Ryan are written off with minimal fanfare in the first half-hour so that their actors can go work on The Mindy Project, and Andy disappears for an extended period himself while Ed Helms films The Hangover Part III. His absence as manager somehow doesn’t much affect the workplace dynamics, an angle which could have been pushed for satirical bite but mostly just seems like a plot hole given how quickly Nellie jumped on the last similar opportunity. And Erin and Pete’s new flirtation is simply a weak retread of various stories we’ve already seen in this setting, despite the dialogue lampshading it as exactly that.

By the standards of Dunder Mifflin without Michael Scott, this is nevertheless a strong run, and the finale is a worthwhile sendoff to the erstwhile Scranton branch, full of fun callbacks and emotional farewells for viewers who have stuck around since the start. It’s admittedly not the series that it once was, but under returning original showrunner Greg Daniels, it’s a big step back up from that recent nadir of aimless Robert California nonsense.

[Content warning for fatphobia, transphobia, and sexual assault.]

This season: ★★★☆☆

Overall series: ★★★★☆

Seasons ranked: 2 > 5 > 3 > 4 > 6 > 9 > 7 > 1 > 8

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TV Review: Fleabag, season 1

TV #56 of 2020:

Fleabag, season 1

This short British show about a woman with sex addiction, a dysfunctional family, and a dead best friend successfully mines some uncomfortable humor from those subjects, but… I’m frankly just not sure I really get it. Like, as funny and distinctive as the nameless protagonist’s audience asides can be, I don’t know that the series is articulating exactly what I should be rooting for or understanding about her mental / emotional state throughout. It may be that’s clearer in actress-creator Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s original one-person stageplay and something’s been lost in the expansion to an ensemble program for television, or it may be that I’m just not connecting well enough with the material and its somewhat jarring scene and episode breaks. In any event, it’s a quick enough watch that I expect I’ll continue on to the second season — which I’ve heard nearly everyone say is much better anyway — and hope that that one can provide the missing ingredient that’s been keeping me at a distance here.

[Content warning for suicide.]

★★★☆☆

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