Book Review - The Prague Cemetery (Umberto Eco)

Today I look at a novel from Italian author Umberto Eco – The Prague Cemetery is a historical fiction that spans central Europe for much of the 19^th century. It's told from three different perspectives: an Italian captain named Simonini; a priest named Abbe Dalla Piccola; and an unnamed narrator who pieces together a story from the combined writing of Simonini and the abbe.

I was drawn to this book because it's promise of continent-wide conspiracies intrigued me, as well as it's 19^th century setting. Seeing monumental events in recent history like the violence of the Paris Commune and the Dreyfus Affair was one of my favourite aspects of this book. However, on the whole I was extremely disappointed in The Prague Cemetery. It gets off to an intriguing start as we're given three seperate narrators (two of whom very clearly have split-personality disorder), which made me wonder if this was going to be some sort of surrealist text where you can't entirely trust what you're reading.

The more I read though, the less invested I became, and I was soon simply reading the story out of a sense of obligation, not genuine interest.

One of The Prague Cemetery's biggest flaws is this: it has no real characters. What it has are ciphers who exist to push the plot forward. Making matters worse is that nearly all of these characters are interchangeable. Nearly every character is either a scheming revolutionary, a scheming politician, a scheming civil servant, a scheming cleric, or a combination of the above. The one exception is the satanist Diana, and that's only because she exists to be a puppet of the main characters' whims. Instead of a cast of characters, we're given a conveyor belt of equally manipulative, devious and morally sterile people.

I soon began to forget the names of the various bureaucrats and employers Simonini encounters throughout his career, because all of them are equally faceless. Not to mention all of them have more or less the same ambitions and practices – namely to manipulate public opinion to serve their own interests.

Which brings me on to another big issue I have with this book: all of these characters are terrible people. Not only are they bland, stereotypical manipulators, but just about everyone is a colossal bigot. Anti-Semitism is the main focus of the book – I lost count of the amount of times someone goes off on a rant about how the Jews are conspiring to overthrow western civilization – but there's also plenty of misogyny, anti-Catholicism and racism to remind you of how loathsome all these characters are.

But Anti-Semitism is the main subject here. There are two variations: the rabid, fanatical anti-Semitism of the likes of Eduoard Drumont (whose appearance late in the story might have been a nasty shock if I hadn't long stopped caring), or else the empty cynicism of the likes of Simonini. Repeatedly in the story, Simonini forges material he claims to prove an internationalist Zionist plot (originating from a cemetery in Prague, where the book gets its name from) is taking place. His employers often know his “evidence” is fabricated, or else lifted wholesale from popular literature, but they publish it anyway to give the common people of Europe a scapegoat to distract them from the real forces controlling their lives.

This is one aspect of the story that gave me some interest – the idea that politicians and spin doctors openly lie to people to serve their own ends. But again, all of these characters are so shallow and interchangeable that it's hard for me to get invested. It's as if someone wanted to make a novel out of Yes Minister or The Thick of It, but forgot to give its characters flaws and nuances that make them relatable to the audience.

Something else that's sorely missing from this novel is an actual argument. You'd think a story that delves so far into a particularly ugly side of human history would have something of substance to say, or perhaps try to explain why people judge certain communities for being “Other”. It's a topic that's sadly as relevant in Europe today with the hostile response Middle Eastern refugees are facing. But for all it's posturing, The Prague Cemetery doesn't seem to have anything to add to the discussion of prejudice than “Man, prejudice sucks”.

It gives a dangerously simplistic portrayal of how prejudice works in the first place. Since every character in this book seems inherently awful, it gives the impression that bigotry can only exist if generated by inherently awful people. Writing about ordinary and sympathetic people who hold prejudices shows how insidious prejudice is, and might help readers to recognise it in themselves. Repeating the term “Final Solution” over and over does not help anyone better understand why the people of Germany attempted to annihilate several entire races in the 1940s.

Finally, I don't really get what the point of the multiple narratives was, or the split-personality. Seriously, nothing comes of it. It's clear from the start that Simonini and Dalla Piccola are the same person. Eco inserts gaps into their memories, meaning that both personalities have to write to jog the other half's memory. Why Eco didn't simply have a first or third-person narrative all the way through is beyond me.

If I can say anything good about this story, it's that the prose (translated by Richard Dixon) is nice enough, though Eco does like to go off on tangents a fair bit. The act of reading the book may have been a repetitive, often tedious experience, but at least it wasn't excruciating.

Could I recommend The Prague Cemetery? Not really. Not as a historical fiction, or a character study, or a commentary on prejudice, or a spy story, or a satire. Pretty much everything here has been done better.

Just watch Zootropolis instead.

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S06E04) "The Book of the Stranger" (Spoilers)

The latest episode of Game of Thrones gives us one of the long-anticipated Stark reunions, with Sansa, Brienne and Pod meeting Jon at the wall. What I liked about Sansa reuniting with Jon was that it was not exactly the reunion one would have expected. We've never seen these two interact before, and one would think that Jon and Bran, or else Jon and Arya, or Sansa and Arya would have been more appropriate, given that we've seen those character interact before. This odd pairing also made the emotion of their reunion all the sweeter. With all the grim happenings of late, this show has been begging for a little happiness.

Jon and Sansa's dynamic here gives a glimpse into the past lives of the Starks, building on last week's flashback to the Tower of Joy. Learning his family is not completely dead gives Jon a purpose again, as he struggles with his second chance of life. But it's Sansa who's shown to have changed the most in this episode. This isn't just shown through her regret for looking down on Jon before, but also through her demands that they return to Winterfell with arms to save their home and their little brother. With Jon, Davos and Melisandre all adrift, not knowing what to do with their lives, it's Sansa who tries to provoke them to action. This suggests that Sansa may become more a political force in the future.

The ground is also laid for plenty of complications: how will the Watch react to the call to march south, when they know a much greater threat is building to the north? How will Sansa take it when she learns Jon has been resurrected through magic (it's unlikely she already knows, given that she's yet to encounter any supernatural forces, unlike her siblings)? How will Brienne react to Jon being a product of the same magic that killed Renly?

Meanwhile, there's another force preparing to march on Winterfell to the south. Littlefinger (Aidan Gillen) returns to the Vale to persuade young Robert Arryn to mobilise to “save” Sansa, while also carrying out Littlefinger's plans to spread his influence to the north. Watching his standoff with Lord Royce made me wonder “What the heck is up with these guards?” First Dorne and now the Vale! What's with this sudden scourge of disloyalty guards have towards their employers? I'm starting to wonder if the Others cleansing Westeros would be such a bad thing, given how there's only about ten sympathetic characters left there.

I'm hoping the clash at Winterfell provides the catharsis denied in last year's anticlimactic Baratheon-Bolton showdown. Odds are at least one unpleasant character will be offed, perhaps Sansa killing Ramsay or Littlefinger, or Ramsay killing Littlefinger or Sweetrobin.

In King's Landing, we get another uncomfortable audience with the High Sparrow, this time as he tries to persuade Margaery Tyrell (Natalie Dormer) to confess her crimes. Pryce's benevolent smile throughout this whole scene continues to be one of the most unsettling things about this season, moreso than Ramsay in all his eye-bulging glory. The fact that his arguments about the nobility's debauchery carry a lot of weight only adds to the insidiousness of the character.

It's also a great scene for Dormer, who conveys through her huge doe-eyes that she's starting to be taken in by his arguments . . . only to show her real mettle when she tries to talk Loras into staying strong. Margaery's balance of firmness and humanity has made her one of the most fascinating characters on the show, and I hope she gets to do a lot more this season than just sit in a cell being lectured to.

From Cersei and Jaime alas, it's more of the same sniping with the small council and generally being ostracised by everyone. There is one tiny exception with the possibility of a brief alliance between the Lannisters and the Tyrells to undermine the Faith Militant's authority. These are two other characters that I hoped are utilised better in the second half of this season.

In Meereen, Tyrion is finally back in the saddle as he cuts a deal with the slavers to wean them off of slavery, rather than snatch it away from them like Daenerys tried to do. This subplot is based around the gap between compromise and ideals, with Tyrion being the pragmatic foil to Grey Worm's dogged loyalty to his queen, with Missandei mediating between them.

I have to say, I found Grey Worm and Missandei far more interesting in this one episode than I have in their three seasons on the show. For them, the deal with the slavers is of greater emotional significance, yet Tyrion (who's had plenty of experience working with and for people who despise him) can see the bigger picture and knows that compromise is sometimes needed. We never had this sort of ideological conflict when Daenerys was in charge. By being placed at odds with Tyrion, Grey Worm and Missandei are forced to assert themselves more, leading to more of their personalities being enforced into the show.

And speaking of Daenerys (Emilia Clarke), whom I've avoided up until this point due to the lack of momentum in her subplot, well . . . it looks like we're back to the Season 1 finale all over again. Of all the characters in this show, Daenerys is the one I'm the least invested in. This is partially because all the show's attempts to make her impressive feel like Telling not Showing, and partially because Emilia Clarke just doesn't sell it for me. When she's supposed to look powerful and frightening as she burns the khals alive, she instead comes off as weirdly detached from everything.

I didn't dislike the climax to this episode, but I didn't feel much of anything else either. It was just a thing that happened. But I suppose the fact that Daenerys' plot is once again progressing could form some interesting conflict down the road.

My prediction for the rest of the season is that Daenerys will try to retake Meereen, and will be shocked and angered at Tyrion's compromise. Daenerys will try to have Drogon incinerate Tyrion, but Rhaegon and Viseryon (whom Tyrion released whereas Daeneys imprisoned them) will fight for Tyrion, leading to a showdown between the three dragons. Last season, Shireen Baratheon mentioned the bloody Targaryen civil war known as the Dance of the Dragons, which may have been a setup for a second Dance.

And no, that does not mean I hope Tyrion is secretly a Targaryen, although it might look a lot more likely if my prediction comes true.

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S06E03) "Oathbreaker" (Spoilers)

Episode 3 of Game of Thrones introduces us to one of the most crucial moments in the whole series: the infamous battle at the Tower of Joy where a young Lord Eddard Stark (Robert Aramayo) and his friends fight to save his sister Lyanna from the remnants of Aerys II's Kingsguard. I thought Aramayo's performance was an interesting one, as it showed the uncertainty the young Ned must have felt during Robert's Rebellion. Unlike Sean Bean's composed authority, Aramayo doesn't seem to quite suit the role of a dashing knight.

That actually works in his favour though because it shows the young Ned as more vulnerable than we're used to seeing him. Instead of ruling the North with a firm but caring hand, he seems quite out-of-his depth when faced with the uber-confident Kingsguard. This is highlighted when Ned only survives because of Howland Reed's trickery, than from actual fighting prowess.

In the modern day, we see the less diplomatic players continue to dominate the stage when Winterfell is visited by the brusque Smalljon Umber (Dean S Jagger). Umber promptly chews out Ramsay for his cruelty and his father's treachery, then makes it clear that he's only here out of a need to beat the wildlings than for any semblance of feudal loyalty. It's the last thing you'd expect anyone to say to someone of Ramsay's temperament, and Jagger's unabashed frankness makes for a pretty amusing scene.

It quickly takes a shocking turn however when we see that Smalljon has delivered Rickon Stark (Art Parkinson) and Osha (Natalia Tena) into Ramsay's hands, along with what appears to be the severed head of Rickon's direwolf, Shaggy Dog. Like with the Ironborn, I'm glad to see the show has not abandoned all its past plotlines. The questions now arise as to whether this really is an amoral sell-out from the Umbers, or if the show is paralleling the Manderly plot from the books. Perhaps Umber is planning to sneak an army into Winterfell and needs someone who knows the layout on the inside. I also wonder if the show is going to try to give Rickon some depth, or will it just leave him as a plot device so as not to intrude on the characters we already have.

In King's Landing, Qyburn (Anton Lesser) has recruited Varys' little birds as his own intelligence network. The scene where he bribes a horde of ragged, wide-eyed orphans to do his bidding has a weirdly Dickensian feel that's very out of context for a medieval-style show. But I admit I actually liked the scene for this reason. Like the bloodriders' absurdly macho dialogue in episode 1, the scene is somehow endearing in its oddness.

It's also nice to get a glimpse of how Qyburn goes about his business when Cersei isn't around, giving the background characters just a little bit more life. The scene however does make me wonder how loyal the children are to Qyburn. Varys' influence can stretch across whole continents, so I wouldn't be too surprised if Qyburn one day vanishes down some dark alley somewhere.

Speaking of Varys (Conleth Hill), he seems to be coming into his own in Meereen. The scene where he threatens the son of a Meereenese woman for her conspiring with the Sons of the Harpy restores some menace to a character who's been greatly lacking any for several seasons. I thought the throne room as a setting for this scene was curious on a symbolic level. We open with Varys sitting near the throne but not on it, symbolising how he controls the fate of monarchies despite not having kingly status himself.

I wonder what this could mean for his relationship with Tyrion. Obviously Vary only helps people if they're useful for his plans (whatever they might be), but Tyrion is clearly smarter than to be led by the nose as easily as Joffrey or Tommen might be. Perhaps the scene isn't meant to mean anything, except show how ruthless Varys can be in dealing with his enemies. But given that the scene is directly followed by Tyrion playing house (thus leaving the important work to Varys), I wonder if we might start seeing Varys being more direct and forceful in his ambitions.

While this is going on, Tyrion struggles to make conversation with Missandei (Nathalie Emmanuel) and Grey Worm (Jacob Anderson). I thought this was a nice character moment that shows that Tyrion, despite being a brilliant diplomat in Westeros, isn't so skilled when it comes to dealing with people from a country entirely different from his own. That said, I do hope Tyrion starts to regain his politicking mojo, as he's spent far too much time on the sidelines. This is even more important in case Varys really is planning to undermine him.

Speaking of characters who haven't done much of late, Arya Stark (Maisie Williams) finally makes some headway with the Faceless Men when Jaqen H'ghar (Tom Wlaschiha) gives her back her sight. This comes at the cost of Arya's old identity, which apparently has been completely rejected by now. I wonder though how long that will last when Arya returns home and sees the utter ruin her old home has become.

I was particularly glad to see some development here, as Arya's time in Braavos has been one of my least favourite parts of the series due to repetition and lack of momentum. With the ambiguity surrounding Arya's “identity” (What will the Faceless Men have her do now that they seem to think she's ready?), this plotline finally has a new lease of life.

Game of Thrones (S06E02) "Home" (Spoilers)

I know this review is over a week late. Exams and whatnot have been wreaking havoc with my schedule of late.

This week on Game of Thrones, Ramsay Bolton (Iwan Rheon) crosses yet more lines of depravity by murdering his way to becoming Lord of Winterfell. I've noticed an odd change in Ramsay since last year. He doesn't seem to enjoy killing as much as he usually does, showing what could almost be regret as he watches his father Roose (Michael McElhatton) die before him. I wonder if the death of Myranda has shaken his confidence somehow, as he realises that his pet Reek isn't as helpless as Ramsay thought he was.

I'd say Ramsay is starting to realise that he's pushing his luck more and more. He's marked himself out as a kinslayer, and by killing Lady Walda, he's eliminated one of the Boltons' allies in the Riverlands – who also happen to be one of the most prolific families in the realm. This is Ramsay's fourth season of murder and butchery, and by law of averages I'd say this will be his final one. Joffrey didn't last much longer than three seasons; perhaps the producers are thinking of getting rid of Ramsay to replace him with yet another psychopath (Euron Crow's-Eye just happens to debut in the same episode). These murders could well prove the beginning of the end for Ramsay, something I'm sure we can all agree can't come too soon.

Perhaps his murders are also meant to parallel Ellaria and the Sand Snake's betrayal of Doran last week. From Dorne to the Wall, all the more cautious, level-headed players are being removed from the equation, leaving the way open for their reckless replacements. Across the realm, we're seeing the game of thrones devolve into a rage-fuelled stab-a-thon, which of course leaves Westeros even more vulnerable to the Others . . .

This episode also sees the return of the Ironborn, which I was glad to see. They may be a pack of salty, grim-faced bastards, but it's nice to see the show hasn't entirely forgotten its old subplots. Having Yara Greyjoy (Gemma Whelan) and her men utterly fail to save Theon would have been a pretty ignominious note to end on, and I can't wait to see how the power struggle between Yara and her uncle Euron (Pilou Asbæk) ties into the wider struggle for the realm.

That said, I thought the pacing for this segment was a bit off. It zips from Balon (Patrick Malahide) gloating about surviving the War, to him being assassinated, then to his funeral, and the promise of a Kingsmoot. This all happens within the space of ten minutes, almost as if the show's trying to make up for two years of neglect by speeding through the Ironborn plot. I think it might have worked better to kill off Balon in the pilot, then cut to his funeral for this week, just to give a better sense of the passing of time. Maybe D&D been planning on that, only for the scenes to get shuffled around for whatever reason.

It was also pretty sweet to watch the odious Balon get bumped off so unceremoniously, and frankly if you walk on a rickety bridge in a storm you deserve everything you get. Though come to think of it, what makes Yara think he was murdered at all? I mean, just look at those bridges!

In King's Landing, Tommen (Dean-Charles Chapman) seems to be venturing down the path to becoming another Joffrey, vowing to punish the people who've humiliated his wife and mother. I personally think Tommen was more interesting when there was a chance he and Margaery might actually bring some stability to the realm after the chaos of the past few years. Likewise, I think it's a shame that Jaime's (Nikolaj Coster Waldau) possible redemption has turned into yet another revenge quest after Myrcella's murder.

Cersei (Lena Headey) by contrast has become more intriguing since her release from the sept. Her quiet, soft-spoken performance makes it almost impossible to predict where she's going to go from here – or it would if the trailer hadn't added that “I choose violence” line. It'll be very interesting to see how these three characters negotiate the dark urges within them, which no doubt will be provoked even more in the coming war with Dorne.

There's also the building confrontation between the Lannisters and the Faith Militant. Jonathan Pryce continues to shine as the High Sparrow, combining gentle paternalism with an unshakeable zeal that makes him more unnerving even than Ser Robert Strong. The High Sparrow's another character who's hard to predict, but I'm wondering if all this fanatacism is going to burst forward into some frenzy before the season's out.

His brief conversation with Jaime set this conflict up decently, though I thought the dialogue was a bit weak, between Jaime informing the people who came in late that he's a Kingslayer, or the High Sparrow explaining why they adorn their corpses with open eyes. That latter infodump felt more like a blatant foreshadowing of Jon's resurrection.

In the North, Theon decides now's a good time to leave Sansa in the protection of Brienne and Pod. I was a bit disappointed with this development, given how Sansa and Theon's complicated relationship gives a lot of potential for interesting drama. Theon is Sansa's only connection with her past, something she doesn't have with Brienne or Pod since her connection to them has been tangential up to this point. I'm not saying it was a bad decision on part of the writers, but I do feel Theon staying could have led to a more interesting plotline. I'll have to wait and see how this develops before I can judge properly.

I also don't understand Theon's desire to go back to Pyke all of a sudden. It's not like his family treated him any better before he lost everything. It felt more like the writers just wanted a segue into the Ironborn plot.

Meanwhile in Meereen, Tyrion Lannister (Peter Dinklage) decides that Daenerys' dragons need to be released or else they'll wither and die, like the last dragons in Westeros. I liked the little callback to history here, and I'm wondering if that could be foreshadowing stronger ties with Targaryen history. We also get a scene that has been building since the series started, where Tyrion gets to see the dragons up close and personal.

Dinklage's acting in this scene is of course marvellous, with his usual dryness giving way to unashamed wide-eyed wonder. I admit I kind of like the dragons' design as well. Although their reptiles, the animators give their faces some expression as well. They almost come across more as giant scaly dobermans, which I thought was an interesting way to go.

But my God, how stupid would Tyrion have to be to think that just by walking up to the dragons and saying “I am your friend”, they wouldn't burn him alive? This is right up there with Tyrion and Varys' casual stroll around Meereen last week, seemingly unconcerned with the xenophobic death cult that's out to get them.

Tyrion is certainly showing a lot more confidence in himself if he can do all this. Let's hope this translates into some confident politicking in the coming weeks.

Book Review - Foundation and Empire (Isaac Asimov)

Foundation and Empire continues the saga of Isaac Asimov's future universe. It opens 200 years after Hari Seldon's fateful prediction of the fall of the Empire. The Empire is still clinging on to power, but is being worried at the edges by an expanding and recalcitrant Foundation, now represented by a grouping of independent Trader States.

This sequel expands on the themes of its predecessor (individual agency vs historic determinism), but also challenges them and makes for a more unpredictable read. Throughout the text we see characters try to impose their individual will upon the universe around them, whether to bring the universe under their control, or else merely to survive.

In the first of two subplots, the ambitious General Bel Riose tries to do this by waging war on the Foundation and restoring glory to the old order. The trader Lathan Devers (captured by Riose) tries to do the same by expoiting the general's greed and hoping to turn him against the emperor. As has happened so many times before, Seldon's predictions come to pass as individual efforts prove fruitless against the march of history.

This subplot is only fifty pages long and feels a little awkward compared with the second, which is far deeper and takes the Foundation series in a fascinating new direction. The Riose plot feels more at home in the first book, but it's the “Mule” subplot where Foundation and Empire really shines. This plot jumps ahead another hundred years, where an unprecedented threat emerges, throwing Hari Seldon's meticulous predictions off course, and threatening all civilization in the Universe.

Here, Asimov subverts our expectations with the introduction of the Mule, a mysterious warlord who brings whole swathes of the galaxy under his control with almost supernatural ease. The Mule is a mutant, and therefore outside the rule of Seldon's psychohistoric model, meaning that for the first time the future of the two Foundations is under threat. Through the Mule, Asimov shows how a triumphalist individual can be just as frightening as a universe where individual will counts for little – as the Mule advances he deprives everyone in his path of their own liberty. He almost seems to distort the universe by bending everyone in it to suit his needs.

This new development also adds some tension to the saga. A series where every attempt to fight psychohistory fails would become stale very quickly. With the Mule subplot, Asimov challenges the rules he has spent so long constructing, and leaves the novel on a much more ambiguous note than its predecessor.

He also explores individualism through Bayta, the Foundation scholar who acts as our point of view for much of the story. She starts off as fairly passive – being recruited by her in-laws to join the resistance against an increasingly repressive Foundation government. For a while, Bayta doesn't seem to do much other than witness other characters (like Ebling Mis, the psychologist, or Captain Han Pritcher) make more of an impact on wider events.

Towards the end of the book however, as these characters are slowly worn down by the Mule's seemingly unstoppable advance, it's Bayta who takes decisive action. It's a triumphant counterpart to the Mule's rise to power, where Asimov shows individuality as a force for good as well as evil.

The book ends on a cliffhanger, as the Mule is not defeated but frustrated instead. But it still leaves a hopeful note of defiance behind. And given there are still two books left, there are bound to be plenty of twists to come.

Foundation was an interesting exploration of themes but with little heart, I felt. Foundation and Empire shows that both are possible at once. I can't wait to see what happens next!

TV Review - Game of Thrones (S06E01) "The Red Woman"

(This review contains spoilers)

The new season of Game of Thrones opens with the aftermath of Jon Snow's (Kit Harrington) assassination by Alliser Thorne (Owen Teale) and the rest of the Night's Watch who deem him a traitor for allowing the wildlings through the gate. With Jon out of the way, we get some more focus on Thorne, Olly and Davos, who've been kept to the sidelines till now.

Thorne's speech about doing what he sees is right for the Watch – contrasting with Jon's view of what's right – poses some interesting questions that I hope will be explored more in the season. For Thorne, Jon's radical overtures to the wildlings went against one of the key principles of the Watch – yet in trying to protect those principles, Thorne and his men have committed their own act of treachery. It seems this paradox will be the focus of this season's Watch subplot.

For the first time, Thorne is given a motivation for his actions beyond being an asshole. Olly (Brennock O'Connor), likewise, has his own personal reasons for killing Jon. Yet by avenging his parents, Olly shows his partisanship in affairs of the realm, another taboo of the Watch.

There's two massive holes in Thorne's argument though. The Watch are already well aware of the growing threat of the Others, so surely they'd decide the wildlings were the less of two evils. And if Jon's assassination was done to prevent a catastrophe, Thorne and his men are a little late – because the wildlings are already through the gate! The catastrophe they've feared has already arrived, and they've just killed the only man who could have brokered a peace between the two sides. The show might be trying to portray Thorne as misguided, but he just comes off as an idiot.

That said, I'd still be interested to see a civil war within the Watch, which, with half the men calling Thorne the traitor, seems a likely outcome.

Davos (Liam Cunningham) is also given more to do this episode, which is great as you can never have too much Davos Seaworth. That said, it does seem a little odd that he should suddenly become so concerned with protecting the corpse of a guy he barely knew. You'd have thought Davos would still be recovering from the loss of Shireen, Stannis and the entire army. He is effectively a fugitive now with no king to support him, and by rebelling against Thorne he's closing off the possibility of joining the Watch – perhaps the only chance of survival he has left. Really, there was no reason for Davos to carry those scenes at all. Dolorous Edd (Ben Crompton) could have taken his place, and there's another character who I'm never unhappy to see around.

Melisandre's (Carice Van Houten) psychological breakdown following her two failures (supporting the wrong Azor Ahai and failing to protect the real one) are at least a realistic reaction in the midst of all these weird character turns. It's also refreshing to see Melisandre scared and unsure of herself for once. That rapid ageing at the end only adds to the lack of uncertainty about what will happen next.

Paralleling the assassination of Jon is the assassination of Prince Doran Martell (Alexander Siddig), and his son Trystane. Ellaria (Indira Varma) and the Sand Snakes are tired of Dorne being run by weak, complacent men and plan to lead the kingdom against the Lannisters.

This is certainly a gripping setup . . . not that I have any confidence in Ellaria's coup. Indeed, I expect the four of them to meet some gruesome fate after such a spectacular miscalculation that's on par with Joffrey taking off Ned Stark's head. I'll give D&D the benefit of the doubt and assume we're not meant to see these killings as “badass”, or Ellaria's pretensions about a new golden age for Dorne. By killing both the prince and his heir, they've not only extinguished the Martell line, they've also left Dorne with no clear successor. Being bastards, the four of them can't legally lead Dorne unless a lord or lady recognises them. We've so far seen no other Dornish house willing to make an alliance with them, and apart from Doran's guard they don't seem to have any connections to speak of.

We'll probably hear of some as-yet unheard of allies in the coming weeks, but for the moment, Ellaria and her little band come off more stupid and irrational than genuinely revolutionary. Indira Varma just about saves this plot-line, convincingly portraying a ruthless usurper. The Sand Snakes are still also prominent, unfortunately, and as indistinguishable as ever. The only entertainment I can see from them is the expectation of watching as their little power fantasy crumbles around them.

In the North, Sansa Stark (Sophie Turner) and Theon Greyjoy (Alfie Allen) are fleeing desperately from the clutches of Ramsay Snow. Just as they're about to get recaptured, they're saved by Brienne of Tarth (Gwendoline Christie) and Podrick Payne (Daniel Portman). This was certainly an intriguing development as we now have four mismatched characters brought together. It's possible this could be the beginnings of a new Stark household with Sansa at the head. It would certainly be a nice change from Sansa being moved two and fro across the board by the other players.

It will be interesting to see how Sansa deals with her precarious new position. For the first time, she's the one in authority and will have to use her own diplomatic skills to carve out a position of security. I can see Brienne and Pod using their own experience at court to act as her counsellors. Sansa's relationship with Brienne will be especially interesting given Brienne's past service to Catelyn Stark.

Perhaps Sansa will look to one of the other great houses for help, given the general hatred of the Boltons. Or maybe she'll lie low in one of the villages and try to rally the peasantry against them. Given that Sansa has based her whole life around being a lady up until this point, forswearing that lifestyle might be the next stage in this trope's deconstruction.

Whatever else Season 6 may throw at us, this is one subplot that i think is ripe with potential.  

Book Review - Demogorgon (Brian Lumley)

(This review contains spoilers)

Today I look at Brian Lumley's 1987 occult thriller Demogorgon. Charlie Trace is a cat burglar with no real future and a past he'd like to forget. One day he's approached by a mysterious Greek with disturbing news – Trace is the son of the Antichrist, who's now hunting for him. At first dismissive, Trace slowly realises that he's a tool in a plot to revive an ancient evil spawned from Satan himself.

I was drawn to Demogorgon by its author's name. I'd previously read Lumley's Necroscope, which showed his knack for fast-moving prose and plotting that whisks the reader along on an engrossing supernatural trip. Demogorgon doesn't quite reach its heights, but it's still a lot of fun for all that.

The characters are not especially deep but they're engaging enough. Trace starts off as a man who only looks out for number one, having been abandoned by his father and losing his mother to a nervous breakdown. Thieving gives his life purpose, not to mention experience in dodging the lords of the Underworld – the criminal one in this case. As horrific events start building around him, Trace becomes a more traditional, morally pure hero. He never really becomes an action hero though, spending much of the third act drugged up to his eyeballs – which I thought hampered the plot a fair bit. He also doesn't do much in the climax, leaving it up to the more interesting secondary characters to save the day.

I really wish Dimitrio Kastroumi had got his own novel. He has a backstory which really could have done with some fleshing out – he stabbed a man in a fit of romantic envy for marrying the woman he loved, but the impact of this on him (like guilt?) isn't really touched on. Plus he spends thirty years researching and tracking down the Antichrist. You could write a whole saga on that!

We're also teased with some social context. There's an establishing section of the story set in Cyprus in the 1950s, where emnity between the Greeks and the Turks is boiling over into violence and vigilantism. It's only here that we see the effect the Antichrist has on the wider world – the rest of the time, “Khumeni” (as he goes by here) is only interested in his own rejuvenation. Perhaps Lumley didn't feel there was time to expand beyond his main characters.

Lumley also tries to work in a love story between Trace and the mysterious Amira Halbstein. Unfortunately, like Trace, she also becomes less active in the plot as the story goes on. There's some brief tension as you wonder what side she's really on, but it quickly turns into a trite “falling for the mark” subplot. Her feelings for Trace are kind of out-of-the-blue (maybe that was just Trace's devilish charm working on her sub-consciously?).

Also Trace – when he realises she's working for Khumeni – orders her to strip for some reason. Because . . . fanservice?

Her role in Khumeni's plot doesn't make much sense either. She was sent to seduce Trace to make him come to Israel with her, where Khumeni would be lying in wait. But Khumeni sends some thugs with her to bring Trace by force if he proves troublesome. He eventually does and has to be doped to come along with them. So why didn't Khumeni just do that before? Wouldn't it have made more sense to keep Amira near him so he could keep an eye on her?

And jumping to the end, that coda felt a bit flat too. Trace, finally succumbing to his dark inner self, calls on Satan's power to destroy some thugs who beat him up, and his ex who went over to their side. The trouble is, none of these characters are developed enough so their deaths felt a bit off. I wasn't sure what I was meant to feel. Was there supposed to be some grim satisfaction to watching them get struck by lightning? If so, Lumley could have built up their unpleasantness a bit more.

The supernatural side of the book is handled better though, and it's clearly here that Lumley has the most interest, so I won't hold his character issues against him too much. The Antichrist's absorbtion of his victims is a wonderfully gruesome sight – and it also lets Lumley play on the old image of the devil as having goat legs. We also get walking lightning, a terrifying but awesome way to kill someone. Lumley plays with biblical stereotypes here as well – here it's Satan's wrath that comes from the sky as lightning, not God's.

The climax though feels a bit too neat. Khumeni is just about ready to be fully revived and then . . . Satan just abandons him? Why? He threw away his chance at world domination. Had he thought Khumeni had failed him in some way? Did the Prince of Darkness suddenly decide his grandson would make a better agent? Again, Lumley could have set this up better by showing Trace as more overtly villainous.

Khumeni is thus left the ignominous fate of being turned into a pig-man and falling off a cliff to his death. Kind of a shite way to treat your villain. It's not really a case of “God out of the machine” so much as “Satan exits stage left.”

Alas Demogorgon has many problems. But I still had fun.

Book Review - Cross Bones (Kathy Reichs)

When Avram Ferris, a Jewish trader, is shot in Montreal, forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan is given a photograph by a mysterious man who claims it holds the key to the murder. The photo is of a skeleton, and as Brennan searches for its identity, she fears she might stumble on a millenium-old secret that could cause worldwide chaos.

First things first, the story's not as melodramatic as I just made it sound. One of the most entertaining things about this story was thinking it was going down the Dan Brown route, only to wrongfoot the reader completely. Cross Bones is pretty innovative in that regard - “brave” is probably too strong a word, as it's not that the book really does anything to subvert expectations, rather it doesn't do a certain thing.

It teases that it's going to feature sinister, ancient conspiracies, with Jewish, Christian and Muslim groups all having a moment in the dark spotlight. Two iconic moments from Christian and Jewish heritage – Christ's crucifixion and the siege of Masada – play a central role in Brennan's investigations, implying that they're going to be central to the story's resolution. Before the story begins, Reichs gives us a detailed timeline of a real Israeli archaeological dig that happened in the 1960s, and the weird aftermath that would have any conspiracy nut in a lather. I won't say how the novel deals with all this, but I imagine some readers will be impressed by the unexpected turn, while others will be sorely disappointed.

But enough about intrigue, let's talk about the more concrete details. First of all, I really liked Reichs's prose. It's very efficient, with no time for purple prose, which is a big turn-off for me. In fact, there are times when the wording feels a little too clipped. Reichs also loves giving single sentences their own line, as if to show that they're really significant.

But she does this so much it loses its effect quickly.

It starts to look a bit melodramatic after a while.

She also loves to end chapters with thunderingly unsubtle teasers for the next chapter. Typically, someone will be explaining something to Brennan, and the chapter will end on something like “What he said next made my jaw drop” or words to that effect. Not only does this get excessive, but it comes off as really unnecessary given we can just turn the page to find out what exactly was said. It's not like we're getting each chapter in weekly installments and are being forced to wait in suspense for the next one.

All these are minor gripes thought. Honestly, I do love the writing in this book. Reichs has a very easy-going style and humour that made up for the slightly convoluted plot. There are number of skeletons involved in the story, and it can get a little confusing trying to remember who's who. At points, she loves to go into excruciating detail about how a skeleton is examined. This isn't surprising given how Reichs is basing this on her own work, but it made me skip over a few pages as I went.

Fortunately, Reichs's characterisation makes up for these dry moments. Brennan gives the profession a very human quality, and her frequent quips stop the book from taking itself too seriously, while also avoiding coming off as obnoxious. We find out a lot about Brennan's life and backstory through occasional tidbits, so she feels well-rounded without having to bury the reader under a tonne of exposition. I also liked her tongue-in-cheek relationship with Andrew Ryan. It's nice to read a crime novel where the protagonist's romance is playful instead of angsty.

Jake Drum was a bit of weak character in my opinion. He spends a lot of time grumbling and holding things back from Brennan, which starts to get a bit repetitive. That was one of my biggest gripes with the book and made the second half a bit of a slog as he features more prominently there.

That said, I still liked Cross Bones over all. It's fun and it has some great character-work, which is always good in a book, and it. I say pick up a copy if you get the chance.

TV Review - Better Call Saul S02E02 & S02E03 "Cobbler" & "Amarillo"

Apologies on the lateness of this review. College work has been sucking away all my energy over the past two weeks, but now I'm back to talk about the next two episodes of Better Call Saul. And to be honest, there isn't a whole lot to talk about. We're still at the stage where the foundations of the season's plot are being laid, before events really kick off.

The main thread so far is Jimmy trying to adjust to working in a large, professional law firm. From the way he carries himself in board meetings, it's clear why Jimmy would be such an attractive asset to them, given his magnetism and gift of the gab. We see it in slightly less scrupulous ways as well, like Jimmy ambushing a group of seniors in Texas, hoping to score more clients in Davis and Main's push against Sandpiper. We also get to see Jimmy's first major clash with the firm when he airs a commercial without their consent, adding the first nail to his coffin as a reputable lawyer.

Jimmy's most entertaining moment is undoubtedly where he's forced to explain away Warmolt's bizarre behaviour to the police. The show has a great way of forcing its characters into tight situations and getting them to come up with novel solutions; we saw it last season when Jimmy was kidnapped by Tuco, and again when he was forced to find the “abducted” Kettelmans. Here, Jimmy's explanation for Warmolt is hilarious in its sheer Would-I-lie-about-this? brazenness, while also ending on a more serious note when Kim lectures him on doctoring evidence. This is more a teaser for a major plot point than a plot point in itself, but like the Davis and Main commercial, it gives a credible explanation for how a lawyer as committed as Jimmy could end up getting kicked out of the firm.

It also causes some cracks in his relationship with Kim. I like how their relationship has become a lot more open since last season, with their romantic feelings becoming more overt as they get more comfortable with each other. Seeing how great the two work together obviously adds to to the tragedy of the whole thing, since the relationship can only end in disaster.

Chuck McGill (Michael McKean) returns, with a much frostier relationship with his little brother, understandably. While Chuck was characterised as the straight-laced brother back in Season 1, I couldn't help notice a slight change in his presence here. We first see Chuck struggling to occupy himself playing the piano in his darkened home. In the board meetings, he has to silently watch while Jimmy dominates proceedings. Maybe it's my imagination, but I wonder if Chuck is going to resort to more underhand techniques this season, not so much for the good of the firm, as out of resentment at watching his more reckless brother become more successful than him. It wouldn't surprise me – given how envy and bitterness was at the heart of Jimmy being forced to leave Cicero – if Gilligan and Gould decided to link the two brothers together thematically.

Mike's subplot also gets a bit more development here. Staking out his daughter's house to protect her and Kaylee from a gang is exactly the sort of compassion mixed with cold determination we've come to expect from him. It also links in again with Mike's disillusionment with the police; he does it himself since the Albuquerque cops don't seem that concerned. The “twist” where it's hinted that Stacey (Kerry Condon) may have imagined raises more questions: is she becoming paranoid? Is Mike going to have to become more involved with his family? How is he going to square his responsibilities to them with his further forays into the Albuquerque Underworld?

Episode 3 tantalisingly ends with Nacho offering Mike a job to “make someone disappear”. My first instinct was that it might be Tuco or even Gus Fring (just a little something to get viewers even more lathered up). But I guess if that were the case they would have shown just who Nacho wants bumped off – I suppose whoever it is is someone we haven't met before. It would also be a little too soon for Mike – who even in this episode is reluctant to get involved in anything too deep – would suddenly start playing politics by jumping from one crime lord to another.

I suppose Mike's plot at this stage, like Jimmy's, is not about linking Better Call Saul in with its parent show. Right now it seems more of a personal story, showing how Mike gets dragged down further into a life of crime. Unlike Jimmy, his weakness isn't recklessness, but his sense of duty to his family.

For the moment, the season is proceeding at a slow enough pace. But it's certainly not skimping on deepening and developing its characters.

Book Review - Century Rain (Alastair Reynolds)

Century Rain is a futuristic sci-fi thriller from Alastair Reynolds. It opens in the 23^rd century, where humanity has divided into two factions – the machine-augmented Slashers and the more conservative Threshers – and the Earth has been deserted in the wake of a machine-led catastrophe. War between Slashers and Threshers is looming, especially over who gets to possess the Earth, which has been overtaken by machines. An archeologist named Verity Auger is approached by the Securities Board of the Threshers (aka, the secret service) to investigate a secret phenomenon; an immense metallic sphere capable of housing a planet. Inside is a replica of the Earth set during an alternate 1950s. Auger is called on to retreive some top secret documents from Paris, while evading the hostile Slasher forces that have already penetrated the planet.

One thing you can say for Alastair Reynolds is that he knows how to convey a sense of scale. Like his other works, this book spans vast swathes of space, sometimes even bending the laws of reality to give his universe an even greater scope. Even then, this feels like only one portion of a much bigger story. We keep getting hints of other events, like the past wars between Slashers and Threshers, and the Nanocaust which destroyed the Earth. The biggest event is the creation of the spheres, which we're kept in the dark about. We never find out who created them, or “how” or “why” for that matter. While it can feel like a bit of cheat to string the reader along for 500 pages with no clear answer, I like how Reynolds keeps certain things back, making his universe feel so much bigger. He's tackled similar themes in other works like Pushing Ice, where another super-advanced civilisation creates an enormous structure capable of containing a planet. I imagine you'd have to read all his novels to really understand it, given how he likes to loosely thread them together.

The alternate Earth is a different addition to his other books. This is the first time I've read Reynolds trying to write a “historical” piece. The concept of averting WWII has been around a long time, but Reynolds handles it in a fascinating way here. Here the War hasn't been averted, but greatly shortened, lasting a few months as the Nazis failed to take France due to unseasonally heavy rain (caused by the artificial climate of the sphere). Without the arms race that followed, the human race didn't progress technologically and is still stuck in a 1930s type world without television, computers, and most crucially, spacefaring technology that would reveal the truth about their world. Technology is not the only change though; because the Nazis never got as far as the Final Solution, there was no widespread condemnation of Fascism and global movement towards civil rights. The alternate France is clearly moving down the Fascist route again, while our protagonist (an American PI named Wendell Floyd) can only helplessly watch.

While Reynolds loves to play around with his universe and invent all sorts of weirdness, I didn't think his characterisation was that strong. It's not that he doesn't try; we spend a lot of time with Auger and Floyd, finding out about their pasts, their motivations, and their relations with the other characters. Reynolds does a lot to make these people three-dimensional and interesting, but for some reason, I didn't feel as invested in them as I should have. I suppose the hyperfuturistic setting is part of the problem. Reynolds's universe is certainly alien, but it's so alien that I sometimes struggle to connect with the people in it. The constant presence of technology, which has become almost omnipotent in its development, also makes the universe feel a bit too dettached from ours, as technologically-driven as our world is.

The scenes in alternate Paris were the best for me, as here the characters felt strongest. The relatability of the setting may have helped here. Floyd's situation was one that I think almost everyone can relate to. He has a choice between continuing his life in France with its – limited – security, or he can go to America with his one-time flame, Greta, and risk starting a new life there. Between a corrupt society, precarious job and unfulfilled ambitions, this is certainly not easy reading, but it's still the part of the book I feel works the best. I thought the slow-burning romance between Auger and Floyd was decently handled. I'm glad Reynolds didn't make it too saccharine, or go the other extreme and have them clash so much that their feelings didn't feel plausible. That said, I didn't think their relationship was remarkable – it didn't stay with me long after finishing the book – but it was enough to fill up the middle portion of the story.

Something else I feel this story could have needed was a bit more humour. Reynolds doesn't often try for humour, and when he does it's usually characters quipping in life-or-death situations, a style I don't really care for. Most of the time, his work comes off as po-faced and too serious, which can make be hard to engage with sometimes.

The technobabble can also be overbearing sometimes. Reynolds spends a lot of time discussing wormholes, nanotechnology, secret communications, and God knows what else. It's just about legible if you pay attention, which can be difficult when the plot slows down. Be warned, the plot slows a lot in this book, especially near the beginning and the end. The final section consists of our heroes travelling through space, trying to stop a superweapon being deployed on Floyd's Earth. It lasts about a hundred pages but I feel it could have been pared down a bit. This is another tactic Reynolds uses to show how enormous the universe is, by having his characters take ages to get from A to B, which is understandable if you want to convey realism. But did it really have to be done this much? By this point, I was just trying to finish the book as quickly as possible.

One last thing I want to touch on are the villains. The most predominant are those weird kids on Floyd's Earth, who in reality are genetically-modified soldiers which have stuck around a bit longer than their sell-by date, and are now starting to malfunction in psychotic ways. I love to see this sort of genre-bending, and Reynolds uses it to great effect here. The children behave like ghouls from European folklore, yet also serve as a warning about the limits of technology – the merging of Old and New World symbols is definitely one of my favourite things about this book.

However, these are only grunts. The real villains, the ones pulling all the strings are far, far less interesting. In fact, we only meet one of them briefly, and for the rest of the story, all we see of them are the tail-lights of their receding spaceship. Hardly what you'd call memorable.

With all that said, I'd still reccommend Century Rain for any sci-fi fans out there. Its eye for the grandiose and spectacular may feel alienating, especially when it comes to making the story feel more personal, but it's still well worth checking out.

TV Review - Better Call Saul (S02E01) "Switch"

It's hard to believe that already a year has gone by since the premiere of season 1 of Better Call Saul. Season 2 opens with a reminder of where Saul (Bob Odenkirk) ended up after escaping the carnage wrought by Walter White; working at a Cinnabon cafe in Omaha. The episode opens with some tropes we've come to expect from Vince Gilligan; extreme close-ups, ironic soundtrack, and a dreary disillusionment with modern society. At the end of another long day, Saul gets locked in the dumpster area, where the only way out is an alarmed fire escape. His dilemma in the opening scene reflects the deeper one he faces in Albuquerque; should he wait around for someone to get him out (or offer him a job), or should he plough ahead and take a risk (in this case, getting arrested or fired)?

The episode then cuts back to where Saul (still going by Jimmy McGill) was at the end of Season 1; turning his back on the legal profession to live out a life of directionless hedonism. Jimmy's forced to question every choice he's made since coming to Albuquerque; if all his efforts to become a lawyer have been to win his brother's approval, why should he bother when Chuck has no faith in him anyway? The possibility of redemption arrives in the form of Kim Wexler (Rhea Seehorn), the one person who still refuses to let Jimmy throw his life away. As Kim tries to talk Jimmy into taking up the offer to work at Davis & Main, Jimmy rebuffs her with his own philosophy. Both arguments make sense given the characters' situation, and the episode toys with the audience's expectations about which way Jimmy will go in the end.

The scene leads to a lengthy sequence where Jimmy and Kim con an obnoxious stockbroker (Kyle Bornheimer) into treating them to dinner, in exchange for spinning him a yarn about their long-lost wealthy uncle. The script wisely doesn't tell us why Jimmy approaches him in the first place, or what his angle is when he plays up the role of a dupe. It's only when Jimmy and Kim run out on the check that Jimmy's motivations are made clear to us, and to Kim: scamming people is fun, and when life doesn't reward you for your hard work, why not have a little fun? This scene plays out like a lawyer's patter, with snappy dialogue and exuberant performances to lull the viewer in, not getting to the point until the very end. The closest analogue I could think of from last season was Jimmy's meltdown at the retirement home, where an innocent game of bingo turns into a truly unpleasant sob story. It's a form of storytelling that Gilligan clearly enjoys, and it's used to excellent effect here.

We also see it in the episode's other plot. Mike Ehrmantraut (Jonathan Banks) is unimpressed with the decisions made by his “boss”, Daniel Warmolt (Mark Proksch), and, in a most characteristic way, calmly walks away when he knows it's not worth his time. Warmolt had only a small role last year, but there are hints that he could become more central here. I certainly hope so, as this is a character with a lot of mileage – with his luminous runners and outrageous compensatory Hummer, one could read him as a more comical Walter White (if we didn't already have one). His Fargo-esque accent underlines how much of an outsider he is in sunbaked New Mexico. Endearingly, Warmolt lacks the most basic understanding of how to be a successful criminal, like not to call the cops when you've clearly got a dark secret in your home.

Tuco's lieutenant, Nacho (Michael Mando) also returns, still as menacing as ever. Interestingly, it's periphary characters like these that are currently driving the plot, as Jimmy, Kim and Mike don't really do much this week. Not that I'm complaining. The season's only just beginning and it's already itching to go places, throwing all manner of questions at us.

How does Jimmy go from a respectable lawfirm to a strip mall? What does Warmolt have behind his wall? Why wasn't Jimmy supposed to turn off that switch?

Answers to all these and more coming soon!

Book Review - The Maltese Falcon (Dashiell Hammett)

Private investigator Sam Spade is hired by a young woman to find her sister, fearing her disappearance is connected with her troublesome boyfriend, Phil Thursby. When his partner is shot while tailing Thursby, Spade starts to unravel a much deeper and more complicated case, centering around a coveted black falcon, a medieval artefact worth millions of dollars . . .

Being a noir novel, The Maltese Falcon is not without its complexity when it comes to plot. However, I feel the story works because of its relative simplicity. Dashiell Hammett's prose is less grandiose than the likes of Raymond Chandler. He doesn't add philosophical musings to the story, but merely describes what is happening in the present.

Although the book follows Spade, we aren't given an insight into his thoughts unless he talks about them out loud. Hammett likes to describe Spade's facial expressions, but leaves it up to the reader to decipher them. In this way, the characters are constantly kept at arm's length, keeping their motivations in the dark which leaves the reader more freedom to interpret them how they want.

Because the book avoids introspection, Hammett's focus on external description is heightened. He has a keen eye for detail and creates a vivid impression of what his characters look like. Spade is described at the start as a “blond satan”, and the V's of his face – eyebrows, nose and mouth – are emphasised (something here). Other characters, like Gutman or Joel Cairo, also get in-depth descriptions, which makes the world of the text feel more vivid, and its characters more memorable.

The lack of introspection also leaves Spade's relations with other characters often open to interpretation. I thought his relationship with his secretary, Effie Perine, was the most interesting. There's a mutual affection there, though friction sometimes comes into it. Spade likes to play at being brash and cocky, whereas Effie is more straightforward and can find Spade exasperating sometimes. Hammett gives away enough to keep the reader interested, without making explicit if their relationship has romantic potential, or is more of a friendship or avuncular dynamic.

I thought there were also seeds of an interesting dynamic between Spade and his partner, Miles Archer. Spade clearly doesn't like Miles, and doesn't respect him either as he has an affair with his wife, Iva. However, Miles is killed early on in the story, and Iva only appears in a few scenes, meaning this subplot is not explored as much as I think it could have been.

I also thought Bridgit O'Shaughnessy, the woman who comes to Spade at the start, could have been developed more. She milks the damsel in distress trope a few too many times, and her teary pleas for help come off very repetitive. Hammett at least doesn't take long to show she's not as innocent as she lets on, but the fact that it doesn't lead to any big change in her personality or behaviour leaves her feeling a bit flat as a character.

Despite its weak points, I'd still reccommend The Maltese Falcon to any crime fans. I'll also make sure to check out Hammett's other works in the future.

Book Review - The Space Vampires (Colin Wilson)

“Have you ever killed anyone, Benjamin? It's like sex only there's a winner.”

--- Mr Hyde, Jekyll (2007)

The Space Vampires has a deceptive title. I got my copy at a booksale and was told I could take ten books for €5; I only took this one to fill that quota. From the title and the blurb – about a sex-crazed lady who starts seducing men to their destruction – I was expecting a bit of disposable pulp.

I was surprised to learn that the book was in fact a philosophical tract written by a man who seemed to garner some controversy in his lifetime. I don't know much about philosophy, but I am interested to see how writers infuse their personal beliefs with their stories. Therefore, I approached Mr Wilson's book with more interest.

The plot of The Space Vampires is what you'd expect; a team of astronauts discover a derelict spacecraft built and abandoned by some formidably intelligent alien race, yet somehow harbouring humans in suspended animation. Three of these specimens are brought down to Earth, wherein they break free and start preying on any humans they find by seducing them and possessing their minds. The fate of the world lies primarily in the hands of Olof Carlsen, commander of the team that discovered the “vampires”, and Dr Hans Fallada, who becomes fascinated by their hunting techniques.

One thing I'll say for this story is how effectively it shifts between different genres. The opening chapters, from Carlsen's exploration of the space derelict (christened the Stranger) to Fallada's experiments with life-fields, are situated well within the science-fiction genre. Wilson gets the plot off running almost instantaneously with the Stranger's arrival, and creates an oppressive feeling of dread when the team embarks on it. Fallada's experiments with sea creatures creates dread of a different sort, where the simple act of an eel eating an octopus becomes an almost sexual act, as depicted by Fallada's “life-streams”.

This section seems to be inspired by the controversial theory of the physicist, Harold Saxon Burr, who argued that all organisms have an electromagnetic field surrounding them that corresponds with their physical state. Wilson uses this theory to add to the philosophical argument of his own work – he parallels the life-field theory with his own depiction of the mental/sexual relationship between the vampires and their prey. The concept of an interconnected universe is explored by the text in various ways, from the life-field experiments, to Carlsen's newfound telepathy, to the aliens' own concept of sexual attraction.

The story shifts into Gothic territory when Carlsen and Fallada travel to Sweden in the search for answers about the vampires. They come to a secluded mansion, owned by an eccentric count named Geijerstam, who has a trio of young, eager female students to greet the newcomers. Wilson undermines our expectations here; the count has all the trappings of the Stoker-like vampire but turns out to be benevolent and helpful. Instead, it's Carlsen who is the vampire – or more precisely, has a psychic connection to one of them after a brief encounter.

The act of seduction itself is the text's replacement of blood-sucking; it's through this method that the vampires infect their victims. Rather than bloodlust, it's sexual lust that the victims are overcome with, and Carlsen finds his personal magnetism skyrocketing in the wake of this new power. Unsurprisingly, he has to fight to keep a hold of this humanity in the face of this temptation.

I liked how the text subverts the classical vampire trope and transplants the Gothic theme into a form that contemporary readers could relate to. However, it really could have been handled better. Carlsen tries to use the thought of his wife and children to stop himself giving into his desires. I found this potentially moving development lacking, as we really don't see much of Carlsen's family life. His relationship with them isn't explored much, and so I found it hard to get too invested in this part of the story.

This point in the novel throws up a bigger problem, however. Wilson bases the vampires' methods around his own perception of men and women's sexual relations. The book uses the standard “Men are from Mars, women are from Venus” argument; in this case, “Men are inherently sexually aggressive, while women are submissive”. At one point, Geijerstam takes Carlsen to a psychic to examine the vampires' connection to him. She does this by hanging a pendulum over him, and Geijerstam explains that there are subtle differences in the experiment when it comes to men and women. In this case, the text seems to be arguing that a person's mental state is somehow connected with their gender. I'm not an expert on gender politics, but I wasn't much convinced by Wilson's argument here. For one thing, it completely ignores LGBT people. The argument comes off as very archaic and simplistic

Thankfully, the story does pick up again in the third act, where the truth about the vampires' origins is revealed. Wilson not only conveys how truly alien the vampires are, but how much of a culture shock it would be to meet them. When Carlsen is shown just how much of the Universe they have explored, it puts the Planet Earth in a rather obsolete perspective. Carlsen's nihilistic reaction to this – and to the vampires' unexpected fate – left quite an impression on me. Wilson also draws a broad outline of the aliens' culture, how they became vampires, and also of their intentions in coming to Earth. It's enough to make the novel feel richer, but not too much that it gets bogged down in technical details.

The theme of interconnectedness returns to the novel's climax. Near the start, Fallada showed how the life-fields of predator and prey work in harmony as one is consumed by the other. Here, the vampires' own predatory nature is a result, not of connection, but isolation. Cut off from their own world, they're forced to take genocidal measures just to survive. I couldn't help feeling some degree of sympathy for the vampires, but Wilson manages to avoid downplaying the horror of their acts.

The Space Vampires is an interesting if uneven novel. I didn't agree with all of its arguments and the characterisation is pretty thin. Where it succeeds is building a feeling of weirdness and horror, while hinting at some deeper, groundbreaking themes.