Recently I was walking through downtown and saw that the sidewalk ahead of me was blocked by men on ladders doing something to one of the storefronts. Rather than walk out into the street and try to dodge traffic, I elected to take an unplanned detour through the bookstore and go out their back door. This book is one of the things I picked up on that detour.
I like nonfiction, or at least certain sorts of nonfiction, so I always browse the nonfiction paperbacks when I'm in the store. I sometimes enjoy outdoorsy adventure sorts of books, which is interesting because, other than bicycling, I'm not at all an outdoorsy person. I have no desire to go scuba diving, or climb Mount Everest, or go snowboarding on virgin snow on a mountain and risk getting buried by an avalanche. And yet I sometimes enjoy reading about these things. I used to subscribe to Outside magazine, even though I would never want to do most of the things they write about. But I still found it interesting reading.
Jill Fredston and her husband Doug Fesler are outdoorsy people. They live in Alaska and are avalanche specialists. They are called to assess avalanche risk, to help organize rescues, and to trigger slides to alleviate danger. They also teach avalanche awareness classes to people who will be outdoors, so that they can recognize risks and try to avoid them. And in the summer? Their idea of fun is paddling 1400 miles in a kayak. They do not lead moderate or low-risk lives.
Fredston writes very well, and I found a good deal of the book quite absorbing. The author talks about rescues, talks about her past and how she and her husband came to be together, talks about the things they do as part of their consulting business. And then she ends it with a warning about building in avalanche-prone areas. If she is to be believed, it won't be long before parts of Juneau are buried, and the greedy, blind fools who don't listen enough to the avalanche forecasters will learn the error of their ways. I understand that she feels strongly about it, but she also laid it on too thick.
The pacing is fairly good, but there were a few parts that turned me off a bit. One was a detailed description of what it's like to take one of their avalanche training classes--very dull. Another was a description of the work they do for film crews staging avalanches for films and commercials. Also fairly dull. And finally was an entire chapter describing one rescue. I think the author was trying to show how stressful and emotional it can be--but it just felt overlong, manipulative, and tedious. But not everyone hates human interest stories as much as I do.
Despite my negative comments, I enjoyed Snowstruck, and finished it in a couple of days, albeit with my eyes glazing over and me flipping forward a few times. It is a fascinating look at something I've never given much thought to before.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Another fatal accident
I was awakened at 5:59 this morning by sirens going past my house. Many sirens. Lots and lots of sirens. I didn't know what was going on, but I could tell that it was something serious.
As I drove in to work, I discovered the reason: a crash on the highway. A mangled SUV lying on its side, the front caved in. The other side of the highway was still closed, two hours later, and there were police cars all over, lights flashing.
The SUV driver died, after colliding with a dump truck that apparently was crossing the highway. And do you know where this happened? At the same intersection where the bicyclist was killed two months ago. I find this incredibly depressing.
As I drove in to work, I discovered the reason: a crash on the highway. A mangled SUV lying on its side, the front caved in. The other side of the highway was still closed, two hours later, and there were police cars all over, lights flashing.
The SUV driver died, after colliding with a dump truck that apparently was crossing the highway. And do you know where this happened? At the same intersection where the bicyclist was killed two months ago. I find this incredibly depressing.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
The Graveyard Book is a short YA work which I was able to polish off in a couple of hours. It's a small book with many illustrations, which frankly I mostly ignored. Reading, for me, isn't a visual medium, and the illustrations are rough and blobby pen and inks that don't fill in any of the details anyway.
Lest I sound too grumpy in that last paragraph, I enjoyed The Graveyard Book. It's a story about a boy who, as a toddler, escapes when the rest of his family is murdered, and he is taken in and raised by the ghosts that haunt the graveyard he wandered into. He is not allowed to leave the cemetery because the killer is still looking for him, but as he grows older he becomes better able to defend himself. Eventually the bad guy is defeated, and then he has to leave the graveyard, because that's the way things are in children's books--the characters always go back to real life, and cannot return to the fantasy land they visited in their childhood. Frankly, I've always thought that was a sad and lousy ending, but it seems to be tradition.
The novel is incredibly vague on details, as children's books often are. It is never explained about toilet facilities or haircuts or why he doesn't freeze if he hasn't got any shoes. Likewise, the actions of his guardian, Silas, are pretty much kept in the dark. There is one scene in which he and two others are in an unnamed place facing steep odds, and then we return back to the graveyard to find that nearly all of the bad guys are dead, culled down to a number that our young protagonist could handle himself, with a little help from his ghostly friends. That sort of non-explanation is acceptable in works for kids, but not for me. So I say again, as I always do when I read YA books: I thought this one was a pleasant enough read, but I never find these books satisfying. I am not their audience, and it is very obvious.
Lest I sound too grumpy in that last paragraph, I enjoyed The Graveyard Book. It's a story about a boy who, as a toddler, escapes when the rest of his family is murdered, and he is taken in and raised by the ghosts that haunt the graveyard he wandered into. He is not allowed to leave the cemetery because the killer is still looking for him, but as he grows older he becomes better able to defend himself. Eventually the bad guy is defeated, and then he has to leave the graveyard, because that's the way things are in children's books--the characters always go back to real life, and cannot return to the fantasy land they visited in their childhood. Frankly, I've always thought that was a sad and lousy ending, but it seems to be tradition.
The novel is incredibly vague on details, as children's books often are. It is never explained about toilet facilities or haircuts or why he doesn't freeze if he hasn't got any shoes. Likewise, the actions of his guardian, Silas, are pretty much kept in the dark. There is one scene in which he and two others are in an unnamed place facing steep odds, and then we return back to the graveyard to find that nearly all of the bad guys are dead, culled down to a number that our young protagonist could handle himself, with a little help from his ghostly friends. That sort of non-explanation is acceptable in works for kids, but not for me. So I say again, as I always do when I read YA books: I thought this one was a pleasant enough read, but I never find these books satisfying. I am not their audience, and it is very obvious.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
The Bone Garden by Kate Ellis
I've been in a bit of a reading funk lately, so yesterday I went to the library looking for light books I could zoom through. This was one of them.
I like police procedurals, and am always looking for new writers to try. This is the first Ellis I've read. It centers around an archaeological dig at a decaying 16th Century manor that is now being restored. The archaeologists have been called in to help excavate the early 18th Century gardens so that they can be recreated and restored to their former glory. In the course of their digging, they find three bodies in the gardens. It is cause for curiosity, but since they were obviously murdered three hundred years previously, it isn't a matter for the police.
However, a fresh body also turns up at a nearby caravan park that caters to tourists. The police cannot identify the man, but certain clues indicate that he was interested in the dig at Earlsacre Hall, and that leads them to look more closely at the people involved in the restoration. And then a local solicitor who had done legal work for the project is killed before he can speak to the police about his suspicions. Everything indicates that there is something fishy going on at Earlsacre, and the brunt of the investigation falls on Inspector Wesley Peterson, who happens to have a degree in archaeology and is good friends with one of the fellows working on the dig.
By the end, of course, both the murderers (the present-day one and the 18th century one) have been revealed, and there are strong parallels in the two stories. Oh, and Wesley Peterson (who is from the West Indies) may be descended from the family that owned the manor. It's all highly convenient and coincidental, though I suppose one could say it was structurally clever. Mysteries that try to solve a historical mystery are nothing new: off the top of my head, I can recall reading novels by Josephine Tey and Catherine Aird that do the same, and there are doubtless many more. There was a bit too much romance in the book for me, as four couples find each other in the novel, which is too many in a small area over a period of a few days. But it was a pleasant enough read--none of the characters had a personal life that made you want to slit your wrists after reading, which is a refreshing change from many British police procedurals. Mostly everyone worked together fairly well, and behaved as professionals, mostly.
I figured out who the killer was before the police did, but they weren't too far behind me. On the other hand, the female police officer getting involved with him; not acting when she finds him with incriminating evidence; and her fellow officers having to race to save her was just stupid and gross. Do female officers exist in police procedurals only to make coffee and be victims? Very annoying.
The Bone Garden was an entertaining and slight book. It's a little too cosy and self-consciously clever for me, but I might read another by Ellis.
I like police procedurals, and am always looking for new writers to try. This is the first Ellis I've read. It centers around an archaeological dig at a decaying 16th Century manor that is now being restored. The archaeologists have been called in to help excavate the early 18th Century gardens so that they can be recreated and restored to their former glory. In the course of their digging, they find three bodies in the gardens. It is cause for curiosity, but since they were obviously murdered three hundred years previously, it isn't a matter for the police.
However, a fresh body also turns up at a nearby caravan park that caters to tourists. The police cannot identify the man, but certain clues indicate that he was interested in the dig at Earlsacre Hall, and that leads them to look more closely at the people involved in the restoration. And then a local solicitor who had done legal work for the project is killed before he can speak to the police about his suspicions. Everything indicates that there is something fishy going on at Earlsacre, and the brunt of the investigation falls on Inspector Wesley Peterson, who happens to have a degree in archaeology and is good friends with one of the fellows working on the dig.
By the end, of course, both the murderers (the present-day one and the 18th century one) have been revealed, and there are strong parallels in the two stories. Oh, and Wesley Peterson (who is from the West Indies) may be descended from the family that owned the manor. It's all highly convenient and coincidental, though I suppose one could say it was structurally clever. Mysteries that try to solve a historical mystery are nothing new: off the top of my head, I can recall reading novels by Josephine Tey and Catherine Aird that do the same, and there are doubtless many more. There was a bit too much romance in the book for me, as four couples find each other in the novel, which is too many in a small area over a period of a few days. But it was a pleasant enough read--none of the characters had a personal life that made you want to slit your wrists after reading, which is a refreshing change from many British police procedurals. Mostly everyone worked together fairly well, and behaved as professionals, mostly.
I figured out who the killer was before the police did, but they weren't too far behind me. On the other hand, the female police officer getting involved with him; not acting when she finds him with incriminating evidence; and her fellow officers having to race to save her was just stupid and gross. Do female officers exist in police procedurals only to make coffee and be victims? Very annoying.
The Bone Garden was an entertaining and slight book. It's a little too cosy and self-consciously clever for me, but I might read another by Ellis.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Gate of Ivrel by C.J. Cherryh
I should have written this review sooner, because I read the book a week ago and the details are fading from my mind. For years I've been hearing people refer to Morgaine and Vanye, but had never read the books. Now I know what they're talking about.
The Gate of Ivrel came out in 1976, and I believe it was Cherryh's first published novel. It is a work of science fiction that has the trappings of a fantasy. Vanye, our main protagonist, has been exiled from his horse-clan people over a fight with his brothers, and he's now wandering, trying to avoid bandits and get to the south. On a cold, wintry afternoon he wanders into an old and spooky place called Morgaine's Tomb, and is quite surprised to meet the legendary Morgaine herself, believed killed over a century before. She finds shelter and food, and the next day calls in the favor and binds him to her service for a year. She has not completed her mission on this world, and now she intends to finish the job, with Vanye's assistance.
This being a Cherryh novel, everything goes wrong and Vanye gets the crap beaten out of him many times, while being pulled in different directions by everyone they meet. In the end, he remains loyal to Morgaine. There is a lot of action in the novel, and a lot of trudging through the snow, freezing and starving, being chased by damn near everyone they've encountered along the way. Periodically someone leaps out and attacks them.
Overall, I enjoyed Gate of Ivrel, while nevertheless noting that Vanye's unenviable position is something I've seen before in Cherryh novels. I find Cherryh rather hard to read, sometimes. Her writing, on the sentence level, is rather opaque to me, let alone the way she constructs stories. Add to that the harrowing, impossible situations she puts her characters in, and I find Cherryh novels exhausting. I am glad, however, that she at least leapt immediately into the plot with this one. I find, with some of her work, that I'm skimming through the first section of the book, waiting for the real story to begin. Gate of Ivrel is blessedly straightforward. I think I may try the second book in the series.
The Gate of Ivrel came out in 1976, and I believe it was Cherryh's first published novel. It is a work of science fiction that has the trappings of a fantasy. Vanye, our main protagonist, has been exiled from his horse-clan people over a fight with his brothers, and he's now wandering, trying to avoid bandits and get to the south. On a cold, wintry afternoon he wanders into an old and spooky place called Morgaine's Tomb, and is quite surprised to meet the legendary Morgaine herself, believed killed over a century before. She finds shelter and food, and the next day calls in the favor and binds him to her service for a year. She has not completed her mission on this world, and now she intends to finish the job, with Vanye's assistance.
This being a Cherryh novel, everything goes wrong and Vanye gets the crap beaten out of him many times, while being pulled in different directions by everyone they meet. In the end, he remains loyal to Morgaine. There is a lot of action in the novel, and a lot of trudging through the snow, freezing and starving, being chased by damn near everyone they've encountered along the way. Periodically someone leaps out and attacks them.
Overall, I enjoyed Gate of Ivrel, while nevertheless noting that Vanye's unenviable position is something I've seen before in Cherryh novels. I find Cherryh rather hard to read, sometimes. Her writing, on the sentence level, is rather opaque to me, let alone the way she constructs stories. Add to that the harrowing, impossible situations she puts her characters in, and I find Cherryh novels exhausting. I am glad, however, that she at least leapt immediately into the plot with this one. I find, with some of her work, that I'm skimming through the first section of the book, waiting for the real story to begin. Gate of Ivrel is blessedly straightforward. I think I may try the second book in the series.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The Sinister Pig by Tony Hillerman
This is one of the books I got at the Hastings Library Book sale last winter. I paid 17 cents for it, so it wasn't hard to get my money's worth out of it.
Tony Hillerman is well known for his mysteries set in the Southwest, usually on or near the Navajo Indian Nation. Hillerman died recently, but he'd put out a book every few years since 1970, for a total of 22 (4 of which weren't in the main series). The Sinister Pig came out in 2003.
It concerns drug smuggling, hiding gas profits that are owed to the Tribal Trust Fund, and Washington politics. It features an over-the-top evil rich guy, and Sergeant Jim Chee trying to work up the nerve to admit his feelings for Bernie Manuelito.
I don't have a lot to say about The Sinister Pig. I bolted through it in a couple of hours, but didn't really like it. I have a problem with over-the-top evil rich guys in fiction. They bug me. I have no affection for Bernie, and greatly prefer Joe Leaphorn over Jim Chee. So the book was a shrug and an Eh for me.
Tony Hillerman is well known for his mysteries set in the Southwest, usually on or near the Navajo Indian Nation. Hillerman died recently, but he'd put out a book every few years since 1970, for a total of 22 (4 of which weren't in the main series). The Sinister Pig came out in 2003.
It concerns drug smuggling, hiding gas profits that are owed to the Tribal Trust Fund, and Washington politics. It features an over-the-top evil rich guy, and Sergeant Jim Chee trying to work up the nerve to admit his feelings for Bernie Manuelito.
I don't have a lot to say about The Sinister Pig. I bolted through it in a couple of hours, but didn't really like it. I have a problem with over-the-top evil rich guys in fiction. They bug me. I have no affection for Bernie, and greatly prefer Joe Leaphorn over Jim Chee. So the book was a shrug and an Eh for me.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Warm Dog
Here is a photo of the knitting project I've been working on--a dog sweater for a lady I know at work. I finally made the last adjustments last night and sewed on the velcro. This photo was taken at our fitting. I think he's adorable in it.
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