sick-making "literature"
Let it never be said that I won't give a new book (or a new movie, for that matter) a chance to prove itself beyond bad covers and bad press. Enter AD 62: Pompeii by Rebecca East. Now though the book suffers from a *horribly* designed cover suffering from a blurred and pixelated photograph (that the author proudly claims as her own work- ugh) but was highly recommended by an aunt of mine and her high-school Latin students. So, what the heck, right? No harm ever came from reading a book.
From the first sentence to the last, it is remarkably evident that Ms. East shouldn't quit her day job. The story is predictable, to say the least, incorporating very silly notions about Love and Feminism culled from soap operas. But a hopeless plot is no problem if the prose is fluid and sparkling... which it is most definitely not. An incredibly patronizing authorial voice coupled with the most ridiculous and hackneyed descriptions (our heroine has "Pre-Raphaelite hair"- mentioned not once, but TWICE, just in case we forgot) made my eyes twitch, but the worst is her heroine's "fairy tales" each beginning with a juvenile "And this is how I told X story..." or when she borrows pithy quotes from modern authors (As Joe Schmo said: "insert witty and wise catch phrase here") instead of coming up with any sentence worth reading herself.
Any reader who has progressed past the juvenile readers of Grade Six should feel appropriately disgusted with AD 62: Pompeii.
In related awful book notes, stay away from The Medici Dagger by Cameron West. The ridiculousness factor is high in this paperback as well, which considers itself to be in the same ranks as Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code. (While no especial lover of Dan Brown's complete works, I have read quite a few of them and Code is the best of the bunch, with Angels and Demons a close second. They are undeserving of their status and everyone should know by now that the assumption of the Sacred Feminine is completely false.) Perpetuating another myth about the life of Leonardo (our hero will call him nothing else, because he RESPECTS the artist, dammit), wherein the inventor mistakingly creates an indestructible metal. To show relevance to the title, Leonardo, while realizing that what he has created could have DISASTROUS consequences, makes a dagger out of it anyway, which he was supposed to give to the Medicis and then hides in a fit of indecision. Oooh, a treasure hunt.
Now, even something this contrived could be readable, but NO. Our hero is a tortured soul, a Hollywood stunt man with no will to live, and a plethora of art history degrees apparently hidden in the background somewhere. And though it would be infinitely cool if a graphic designer could indeed help an angsty stunt man save the world and solve an ancient Da Vinci riddle with the help of Corel Draw (West is a bit outdated with his software) but again, what planet are these people on? Cuz it isn't Earth.
The scary thing is that I can devour really awful books like these two in a matter of hours, and yet I'm still only halfway through Race of Scorpions. I think when I put it down last things were on the verge of a naval battle. I'll have to remind myself to set aside some time with Niccolo in the future in repentence. ;)
From the first sentence to the last, it is remarkably evident that Ms. East shouldn't quit her day job. The story is predictable, to say the least, incorporating very silly notions about Love and Feminism culled from soap operas. But a hopeless plot is no problem if the prose is fluid and sparkling... which it is most definitely not. An incredibly patronizing authorial voice coupled with the most ridiculous and hackneyed descriptions (our heroine has "Pre-Raphaelite hair"- mentioned not once, but TWICE, just in case we forgot) made my eyes twitch, but the worst is her heroine's "fairy tales" each beginning with a juvenile "And this is how I told X story..." or when she borrows pithy quotes from modern authors (As Joe Schmo said: "insert witty and wise catch phrase here") instead of coming up with any sentence worth reading herself.
Any reader who has progressed past the juvenile readers of Grade Six should feel appropriately disgusted with AD 62: Pompeii.
In related awful book notes, stay away from The Medici Dagger by Cameron West. The ridiculousness factor is high in this paperback as well, which considers itself to be in the same ranks as Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code. (While no especial lover of Dan Brown's complete works, I have read quite a few of them and Code is the best of the bunch, with Angels and Demons a close second. They are undeserving of their status and everyone should know by now that the assumption of the Sacred Feminine is completely false.) Perpetuating another myth about the life of Leonardo (our hero will call him nothing else, because he RESPECTS the artist, dammit), wherein the inventor mistakingly creates an indestructible metal. To show relevance to the title, Leonardo, while realizing that what he has created could have DISASTROUS consequences, makes a dagger out of it anyway, which he was supposed to give to the Medicis and then hides in a fit of indecision. Oooh, a treasure hunt.
Now, even something this contrived could be readable, but NO. Our hero is a tortured soul, a Hollywood stunt man with no will to live, and a plethora of art history degrees apparently hidden in the background somewhere. And though it would be infinitely cool if a graphic designer could indeed help an angsty stunt man save the world and solve an ancient Da Vinci riddle with the help of Corel Draw (West is a bit outdated with his software) but again, what planet are these people on? Cuz it isn't Earth.
The scary thing is that I can devour really awful books like these two in a matter of hours, and yet I'm still only halfway through Race of Scorpions. I think when I put it down last things were on the verge of a naval battle. I'll have to remind myself to set aside some time with Niccolo in the future in repentence. ;)
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