The Lesser Joke: book reviews and more

Book Review: Through the Groves by Anne Hull

Book #12 of 2024:

Through the Groves by Anne Hull

In this memoir, author Anne Hull paints an evocative picture of her childhood in central Florida — one I found poignantly familiar to my own, despite growing up three decades later and about 100 miles east of her. The orange groves already giving way to new construction, the ever-present mosquitoes and heavy humidity, the surprise encounters with alligators who thankfully weren’t feeling hungry enough to lunge right then… It’s all rendered tangible again for me upon reading these pages, even though I haven’t lived in the state for many years now myself. I’m even a bit nostalgic for the Publix chain of regional supermarkets and the faded highway signs she describes for Yeehaw Junction, a name none of my non-Floridian friends ever seem to believe is real.

Less successful for me is the larger thrust of the work. Is it specifically trying to recapture a bygone halcyon day, either for the writer or her setting? There’s not much here to suggest how things have changed after the events described, and while the book concludes with the deaths of Hull’s parents in her early adulthood, that isn’t framed as particularly reorienting for her life. A minor theme throughout concerns her status as a rural tomboy, but she doesn’t explicitly address her sexuality as a queer woman until the last 10% of this pretty slim title. And although we get a filtered child’s view of adult mental health troubles (including both a neighborhood flasher and a terrifying sequence when her father takes out a loaded gun in front of her), that’s not a topic that’s brought into focus and explored at much length.

In the end, while I see much to connect with in the author’s local experiences, I would not classify this as an exceptionally great example of its particular genre.

[Content warning for homophobia, racism, and alcohol abuse.]

★★★☆☆

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Book Review: Derring-Do for Beginners by Victoria Goddard

Book #11 of 2024:

Derring-Do for Beginners by Victoria Goddard (The Red Company #1)

In the backstory to The Hands of the Emperor and the rest of author Victoria Goddard’s sprawling Nine Worlds fantasy saga, the Red Company was a roving band of friends whose infamous exploits have long since passed into legend. This prequel is the start of a new subseries documenting the early adventures of those folk heroes directly, although so far, it is every bit as cozy and low-stakes as the writer’s typical output. The main characters Jullanar and Damian are still shy teenagers at this stage, two outsiders who find comfort in one another and their growing platonic bond. (She’s led by circumstances to travel far from her familiar life; he’s there at her destination to teach her the local language and otherwise help her fit in.)

The plot is pretty light and character-driven — around a third of the text is devoted solely to the heroine’s placid journey from one realm to the next — but Goddard’s rich cultural worldbuilding and sense of personality make even the slower moments shine. And the story gets a serious jolt in its final quarter, when a certain figure named Fitzroy the Poet bursts onto the scene with all the manic cluelessness of a freshly-regenerated Time Lord. We don’t get much of him here, but it’s already clear how he’s igniting the wanderlust in his new companions that will result in their future glory. For readers who know more of his own later deeds, it’s particularly terrific to see the contrast with his wild youth and better understand the conflicts that must linger in his heart when he grows up to be a reasonably-responsible adult.

But most of this book isn’t about the runaway bard at all, nor is that absence felt in the narrative before his arrival. It’s instead about the neurodivergent young swordsman who has trouble with social cues but hones his body to be a perfect weapon, and the scholar whose poor test results can’t encompass the bravery and inquisitive spirit that lead her to walk out of the only world she’s ever known. It’s above all a gentle read, where the most emotional beat is the girl’s discovery that her tutor whom others think to be of lower intelligence is merely farsighted in a land without the technology to produce corrective lenses. When she’s able to provide him with that disability aid to finally see his surroundings clearly, he becomes capable of even more astonishing feats.

As a novel it’s a bit oddly-shaped, with a lot left unresolved at the end, and I can’t quite decide whether it would be a good launching point for anyone just starting the Nine Worlds sequence. But personally, I’ve rather enjoyed the feeling of sinking back into Goddard’s writing once again. I’ll give this volume three-and-a-half stars rounded up, and hope that the forthcoming sequels keep these vagabonds so delightful even as they age.

★★★★☆

Book Review: Beholder by Ryan La Sala

Book #10 of 2024:

Beholder by Ryan La Sala

At first glance, it seems like this fantasy horror novel should have too much going on its plot to be remotely effective: an orphaned teen protagonist with the magical ability to see backwards in time through mirrors and other reflective surfaces, a Lovecraftian entity lurking inside reflections and trying to push into our reality, bespoke wallpaper that drives people into a frenzy of murder and self-harm, a queer love story with a meet-cute at such a slaughter, an elaborate conspiracy involving a treacherous family friend and a kidnapped grandmother… the list goes on and on. And yet it does all work together, achieving a level of creepiness that honestly pushes the boundaries of YA fiction. (The sexual content between the two boys is nothing past PG-13, but the gore and suicidal ideation is pretty extreme.)

I love the characters and the great use of the New York City setting, and I’m also impressed with how well it avoids ever slipping into an incomprehensible fever dream despite author Ryan La Sala’s claiming that they wrote the whole thing “in a 24-day delirium.” On the contrary, the violence is rendered in uncomfortable detail: the threat of what’s back there in the depths of the mirror, copying the viewer’s form and movements almost but not quite exactly, is skin-crawlingly awful, and the scenes where its victims are compelled to graphically injure and kill themselves are even worse. I say that admiringly, but I did have to pause this audiobook at several points to give myself a break from it all.

★★★★☆

Book Review: Book of Names by John Peel

Book #9 of 2024:

Book of Names by John Peel (Diadem #1)

A solid launch to a fun middle-grade fantasy series about a trio of kids drawn from separate worlds into a magical mystery linking them together. The worst thing about this first title is that it burns through so many of its ideas so quickly — there are revelations that should sting, like Pixel discovering that his pampered existence is predicated on unseen slave labor, but are instead brushed aside in service to the needs of an overly-propulsive plot. This book has to introduce the three 12/13-year-old protagonists and their home lives, disrupt those to get them to their initial adventure off-planet, school them in the basics of their powers and the premise of the setting, and then squeeze in a betrayal and climactic final duel, all while laying breadcrumb clues in the larger storyline for the sequels to take up in turn.

I also don’t have much patience for the sequence of puzzles that the heroes have to solve in these early books, which feel more like a videogame challenge than a grounded element of the narrative. (I’ll grant that I’m far outside the target age range at this point, but even when I read these back in the 1990s, I thought it was silly for the teens’ mysterious benefactor(s) to be communicating important information to them as rebuses, codes, and rhymes that anyone could find and decipher.) Author John Peel thankfully falls away from that device as the saga goes on, but it’s pretty heavy-handed here and now.

Luckily the characters are interesting, both in their own right and in the relationships of trust that they’re starting to build as a team. Score is a mouthy New Yorker whose sarcasm masks his insecurities, ‘Renald’ is a girl from a medieval society disguised as a boy in order to defy their repressive gender roles and train as a warrior, and Pixel is a blue-skinned youth who’s lived most of his life in a virtual reality program, unsure if his closest friends are even real. They’re somewhat archetypal at this stage — present, past, and future; rogue, paladin, and wizard; etc. — but already showing welcome signs of growth as they interact. It’s nice that this isn’t primarily a Score-led novel too, despite him taking the first chapter and being the only one shown (albeit at a hilariously-inaccurate age) on the original cover. Instead we trade off equally among the three perspectives, which allows for greater shading of each.

None of the young wizards know about magic when the story begins, because earth and the other homeworlds are apparently out on the rim of the interdimensional landscape, where such things are notoriously weak. The closer you get to the center, the more your sorcery grows, and that’s the direction our travelers are heading, leveling up with new spells and mystical artifacts as they go. This volume is a good introduction and proof of concept for that, but I’m not blown away on this reread quite yet.

★★★☆☆

Book Review: Endless Night by Agatha Christie

Book #8 of 2024:

Endless Night by Agatha Christie

This is not a mystery novel, although there’s a major death fairly late in the text and a subsequent twist that causes the reader to reevaluate what we’ve heard / understood about the story before that point. It could perhaps be seen as what would happen in a typical Agatha Christie plot were one of her handy detective figures not around to investigate and resolve the matter, which is an interesting change of pace for the writer this deep into her career. It also reminds me of her pseudonymous Mary Westmacott “romances,” in that the majority of the tale is just a slow-paced study of two characters and their star-crossed marriage.

Against all that, we have to weigh the fact that this is probably one of the author’s most racist books, built upon anti-Romani stereotypes and repeated slurs, including in the very name of the primary setting and its troubled local history. (That some of the supposed curses ultimately prove to be manufactured by outsiders doesn’t mitigate the problem or its impact.) And as usual, I personally find Dame Agatha’s brand of love-at-first-sight rather hard to accept or seriously invest in, which tends to blunt the effectiveness of the work at large.

It’s a difficult title to review in more detail without straying into spoilers, but I will say that I wish we got to spend more time in the final moments of the novel, following those certain revelations, given how they so radically reorient the narrative. This is no Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Christie’s masterpiece of four decades earlier wherein a puzzle’s ingenious solution invites us to reread particular passages and marvel at the hidden craft of her artful wording choices, yet it contains a similar pivot without enough supporting material on either side. It’s promising, but a mixed effort overall.

★★★☆☆

Book Review: Star Wars: From a Certain Point of View: Return of the Jedi edited by Tom Hoeler

Book #7 of 2024:

Star Wars: From a Certain Point of View: Return of the Jedi edited by Tom Hoeler

Another batch of 40 stories to celebrate the 40th anniversary of a Star Wars movie, this one centered around the background characters and/or events of Episode VI, Return of the Jedi. Some of these entries expand upon the film’s minor roles, fleshing out elaborate backstories and rich inner lives for them, while others bring in figures from elsewhere in the franchise to populate the era, sometimes to ludicrous effect. (You’ve maybe wondered what The Rise of Skywalker‘s villain General Pryde was up to in the waning days of the Empire, but you likely didn’t need to see Obi-Wan’s four-armed diner friend Dexter Jettster from Attack of the Clones during the closing celebration / riot on Coruscant.) As in the previous titles in this sequence of retellings, there’s also a noticeable and welcome inclusion of queer representation, retroactively working to make the Original Trilogy a little more diverse.

It’s an uneven effort across the board, but there are some particularly fun pieces that are worth checking out, especially given that all of this is, apparently, canonical in Disney’s eyes. In “My Mouth Never Closes” by Charlie Jane Anders, for example, the Sarlacc is established as a vegetarian who keeps trying to tell the people of Tatooine to stop throwing living beings into its gullet — not an herbivorous species, just one particular entity that we now know would have preferred to abstain from meat — while “Then Fall, Sidious” by Olivie Blake presents the great Shakespearean-style soliloquy that runs through Emperor Palpatine’s mind during his final moments on the Death Star. Meanwhile Jabba’s torture droid gets a surprisingly-touching redemption arc after its brief time on-screen (“The Key to Remembering” by Olivia Chadha), and one of the barely-seen palace dancers is involved in a beautiful star-crossed love affair that’s only tangentially-connected to the rebel heroes and their struggles (“Dune Sea Songs of Salt and Moonlight” by Thea Guanzon).

Some of the other tales are a bit less striking and even repetitive, but as a milestone celebration, the book has plenty for fans to enjoy overall.

★★★☆☆

TV Review: Fargo, season 5

TV #3 of 2024:

Fargo, season 5

I like sporadic elements of this season of Fargo. The gas station shoot-out in episode one is a remarkably tense action sequence, and Jon Hamm and Juno Temple are both acting up a storm with those accents. As ever for this anthology series, the midwestern pleasantries masking dark feelings and the bumbling criminals getting in over their heads are a fun combination, as are the new ways that showrunner Noah Hawley has found to remix such themes from the original Coen brothers movie. I especially appreciate how much of this latest plot hinges on a domestic abuse victim who has managed to escape a terrible situation in the backstory and now must fight ferociously to avoid getting dragged back into it or letting it consume the new life she’s built in the meantime.

But that’s certainly muddled by a finale in which — spoiler alert — a powerful ally triumphantly condemns the villain to a lifetime of prison rape, and everything the season is trying to say about debt winds up feeling under-developed and contradictory. (The literal centuries-old sin eater turned hitman never works for me, either, although I acknowledge that reality on this program has been a little loose ever since that UFO showed up back in season two.) A strong conclusion perhaps could have served to redeem the aimlessness, but this one opts instead for a perfunctory wrap-up, a one-year time jump, and some unearned character epilogues. Overall a disappointing end to a promising start, which sadly seems like it’s been the case for Fargo more often than not at this point.

[Content warning for gun violence, torture, racism, and gore.]

★★☆☆☆

Book Review: The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White

Book #6 of 2024:

The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White

Another brutal story from author Andrew Joseph White, although just slightly less viscerally upsetting than his previous novel Hell Followed With Us. (The trans hero of this book is subjected to misgendering, institutionalization / conversion therapy, domestic abuse, and sexual assault dating back to early childhood, but at least he’s not literally turning into an inhuman monster.) As those themes would suggest, it’s a rather heavy read, depicting an alternate history only insofar as this version of 1880s London has vindictive ghosts and an order of wealthy mediums seeking to hoard the power to channel them. That leads them to restrict the lives and bodies of violet-eyed girls who show an affinity for that supernatural gift — or boys like Silas whom society misassigns to that category — but as the writer notes in an afterword, the elements of eugenics and extreme sexism, transphobia, and homophobia there aren’t too far removed from our own reality.

If you can make it through all the gore and character pain, it’s a surprisingly uplifting tale by the end, including a sweet romance for the protagonist with a trans girl whose family likewise can’t bring themselves to acknowledge her real self. The conclusion is a bit open for my liking, with some villains getting their comeuppance but others escaping and the wider system remaining unchallenged, but the personal arc is empowering and the #ownvoices transgender and autistic representation is phenomenal. Recommended for any readers who can stomach it.

★★★★☆

TV Review: Star Trek: Lower Decks, season 2

TV #2 of 2024:

Star Trek: Lower Decks, season 2

I’m still not fully vibing with this cartoon’s irreverent tone, but it’s improved enough in this sophomore season that I’m willing to bump my rating up a notch from last time. My biggest issue in the program’s first year was the way the narrative seemed to punish Boimler for the sort of earnest striving that would be rewarded on any other Star Trek series, and while that appears to be somewhat baked-into the Lower Decks DNA at this point, the balance is eased just enough with occasional wins for him and a greater share of setbacks for the rest of the Cerritos crew to placate my objections on that front.

I think the humor has settled into itself too, especially when it comes to pinning a punchline on an esoteric reference from earlier in Trek history — normally either TNG or one of its sister shows of that era, like when Mariner guesses DS9‘s “sniper rifle that can shoot through walls” during a game of Clue or asks, “Is he still a salamander?” when told that Voyager‘s Tom Paris will be visiting the ship. I particularly love the new Tamarian bridge officer, whose comments like “Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra” represent not an incomprehensible linguistic divide as they did for Picard, but merely a bilingual periodically forgetting to code-switch into Federation Standard.

On the one hand, I suppose such callbacks are inherently alienating for audiences who don’t get them, rendering this show less effective — or at least less funny — for anyone who hasn’t seen / doesn’t remember the referenced episodes. On the other hand, it’s super-validating for my personal decision to watch through this entire franchise in release order from the very beginning!

So, sure. Four-out-of-five stars for an animated comedy that’s making me laugh pretty reliably in this second run, coupled with some light character growth and a slightly more elaborate ongoing plot than just Mariner keeping her family connections a secret. Hit the sonic showers, everybody.

★★★★☆

TV Review: Echo, season 1

TV #1 of 2024:

Echo, season 1

I’m torn in my reaction to this premiere ‘Marvel Spotlight’ production — a designation meant to indicate a series that, while canonical to the wider Marvel Cinematic Universe, should stand on its own for any audience and focus on smaller-scale personal stakes that don’t majorly affect any ongoing storylines. (Looking back, you can probably identify plenty of previous franchise entries that should retroactively qualify for the label as well.) The problem is, it’s not really true of this particular program, which is after all a spinoff of 2021’s Hawkeye miniseries that reuses a villain from Netflix’s old Daredevil run. The first episode is a jumbled mess that tries to recap a few key points from those earlier shows, present new material as backstory for the anti-heroine lead, and establish what all she’s been up to in the meantime. It sets Maya’s own plot off rather poorly, and I can’t imagine it tracking well for any viewer meeting her or her ‘uncle’ for the first time here.

And that’s a shame, because Echo has a lot going for it that becomes clearer after that debut hour. It’s specifically a great showcase for the main character’s Choctaw community and her status as a deaf woman, with she and her family primarily communicating via ASL throughout the series. It’s also a superhero adventure that emphasizes channeling the strength of one’s ancestors, which is a pretty neat metaphor for the genre. Overall this is a welcome addition of representation to the MCU, and I hope that fans won’t take the Spotlight tag (or the weakness of that initial episode) as an excuse to skip it. It certainly delivers on the visceral street-level brawler feel of the Defenders era, which has been somewhat lacking in the CGI-superpowered extravaganzas that Marvel has more typically been delivering of late.

On the other hand, even in its stronger sequences, this title has some issues. The antagonist’s motivation seemingly comes and goes, as does Maya’s, although she’s in reactive mode so often that it doesn’t register as much. The short length cuts against the effectiveness of the piece as well, since four or five episodes isn’t nearly long enough to get to know the supporting cast, despite some solid performances there. We do get gestures at arcs for a couple characters, but generally, they aren’t fleshed out well enough to land with much impact. You can practically feel the studio meddling at times, like front-ending certain cameos, when it’s inevitably the quieter moments that help sell the project the most. Ultimately, then, three stars seems fair for a program that starts rough, noticeably improves, but ends while it feels like it’s still figuring out what exactly it wants to be.

[Content warning for gun violence, racism, ableism, and gore.]

★★★☆☆