Book club

A few weeks ago I was listening to The Talisman in the car on audio tape (actually CDs), and I was absolutely spellbound by it. I read the book (by Stephen King and Peter Straub) when it first came out almost twenty years ago, and loved it then, too.

It's a story about a young boy, Jack Sawyer, who, through a series of events, discovers that he has the power to move between worlds, and, without giving away too much of the story, is given a quest to travel across the country and retrieve a talisman which he hopes will save the life of his mother and, maybe, the world.

I knew that a sequel (Black House) had recently been published, but I hadn't bought it. Listening to The Talisman piqued my interest, though, so I ordered Black House from Amazon and was looking forward to reading it when I finished The Talisman. It sounded intriguing--the plot centered around a grown-up Jack Sawyer who is now a policeman involved in the hunt for a serial killer.

I thought I would die of boredom, and I only made it through, I think, the second chapter. I kept thinking surely the action would pick up. Also, it's written in a highly annoying perspective that I couldn't place, but kept describing to people: "It's written in this . . . I don't know, this weird perspective, like you're the fly on the wall." Things like, "we find the door closed, so we slide underneath," or "we ooze in through the windowscreen," and "so-and-so says," rather than "so-and-so said," as if it's, I don't know, present tense, but . . . oh, I can't explain it. I just kept wishing I knew if there was a name for it.

Some of the Amazon reviewers felt the same way I did, apparently:

a town surveyed by the authors in an unusual third-person plural narration that buoys the book throughout. (Publisher's Weekly)

hackneyed plot; verbose, wisenheimer wordplay; and annoyingly self-conscious, "floating camera"-style narration. (Booklist)

Another reviewer called it "second person" and said it was amazing that someone could write a whole book from that perspective. I didn't find it amazing, I found it unbearable. I kept thinking that maybe it was just for the opening chapter, but it never seemed to stop, so I opened the book in several places further on, and the whole book seems to be written that way.

I gave up. It was just too much work.

Then last weekend I was at the library, and they had the audio version on the shelf, so I thought, well, maybe Frank Muller can make it palatable, so I checked it out.

At the time, I was listening to John Grisham's The Partner, also read by Muller, and it was absolutely wonderful. I enjoyed every minute of it. I finished it Thursday morning, and started Black House Thursday night on the way home, and I listened to it on Friday, and today while I drove around running errands. I made it almost through the first half of the second tape, but ejected it in disgust as I listened to a graphic description of the killer's method, not something I want to dwell on.

I was really disappointed. I had been looking forward to reading it, and I really tried. But I read for enjoyment, and I didn't see any reason to continue reading this awful book. I'm pretty selective about what I read, that is, I'm generally fairly certain that I'm going to enjoy something before I start reading it. So I almost never give up on a book before finishing it, but on the other hand, why torture myself?

Bob and I laid on the bed tonight and had a really interesting conversation about books. I told him my whole high drama story about Black House, and we talked about why he doesn't like books about time travel (he just can't buy into the premise), and I told him about the time travel books that I like (particularly the Kage Baker "The Company" series).

We talked about The Centurion's Empire, which is a time travel novel, of sorts, that he did like. It's about a Roman centurion who discovers a compound that allows him to hibernate through the centuries, waking at various times in history. And then there's Timeline, by Michael Crichton, one of my favorite time travel books, and one that I've encouraged Bob to read because of the medieval history, but he hasn't yet.

We talked about vampire books (Laurell K. Hamilton and Tanya Huff, in particular), and that old Keith Laumer science fiction story about going back to the time of the dinosaurs on a hunting trip, and being warned not to step off the path . . .

Bob and I have a lot of different interests, but it's great to be able to talk about books with him. We like enough of the same things to be able to both enjoy the same book once in awhile, and that's great fun. At work, Gard reads some of the same mysteries that I do, which Bob never reads, so I can talk about Jonathan Kellerman with him, and recommend authors (currently the Harlan Coben "Myron Bolitar" sports agent series).

Books are fun. It's nice to be able to talk about them.

I've been worn out this week. Almost every night I've come home, eaten dinner, then fallen asleep in my chair with a book in my hand and Dinah on my lap. I don't know what it is. I'm fairly busy at work, but nothing too strenuous. It's cold, so I feel like hibernating, but that's nothing new. I'm sure I'll wake up when spring gets here, and the days are already getting longer--it was actually still light when I walked out to my car Friday after work! It's coming, I know it is, I just have to hang on . . .