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3.46 AVERAGE
3.46 AVERAGE
I registered a book at BookCrossing.com!
http://www.BookCrossing.com/journal/12607232
http://www.BookCrossing.com/journal/12607232
Story:
Four factions are shaping the landscape of 1861 London: The Technologists, responsible for every new contraption that pollutes the city air; the Rakes, anarchists all; the Eugenicists, who breed animals to fill certain niches and provide unpaid labor; and the Libertines, who oppose repression and advocate creativity and vision. But there is far more going on here than meets the eye. Werewolves, or loup-garous, are terrorizing the slums and kidnapping young chimney-sweeps, and an outlandish apparition nick-named Spring-Heeled Jack is wandering London and assaulting young women, then disappearing. Sir Richard Francis Burton, a famous explorer, stands amidst the chaos and has been commissioned by Lord Palmerston to find out exactly what’s been going on, and go to any lengths to set things to rights.
Style and Technique:
The Strange Affair of Spring-Heeled Jack is written in the third-person, following Captain Burton and occasionally his young friend, an eccentric poet named Algernon Swinburne. While the events surrounding these two have the potential to make a daring adventure of a story, author Mark Hodder seems intent on dragging his premise through the mud by relying on convenience and insipidity. The foreshadowing is clunky and unconvincing. The explanations given for the new technologies and the work of the Eugenicists are completely unbelievable and have only the very slightest grounding in anything real, which fails to give them credibility. Hodder stretches our suspension of disbelief to the absolute limits, and then shatters it with the appearances of dozens of famous names: Oscar Wilde, Charles Darwin, Florence Nightingale, Richard Mockton Milnes among them. Some of these familiar names are mentioned once and never again, and serve no overall purpose except to add just a dash of “What the hell is going on and why won’t it stop” to this smorgasbord of incredulity.
Things don’t get better as the novel proceeds. Every character speaks in a highly twee fashion, overly jovial and inane. Finally, despite the large amount of female characters involved in the story, every single one of them is one dimensional, flighty, stupid, or only there to be sexually assaulted. This is especially unfortunate because many of the female characters have great potential to become something actually interesting, but the potential is half-heartedly used, off-screen, or abandoned altogether.
While some exceptions must be made for these issues because the setting is steampunk Victorian England and the reader must take into account the times, Hodder maintains his trend of running away with what is acceptable, making the story rather like a painting done in only primary colors, with no subtlety or shading.
The saving grace of this novel—or rather, the part that everyone should skip to and not bother with the rest—is Part Two: Being the True History of Spring-Heeled Jack. This part is like a novella on its own, where Hodder’s talent, thought by now to be a myth, really shines. It’s fast-paced, fascinating, and obviously deals with the origin of Spring-Heeled Jack and how he’s affected Victorian London. Spring-Heeled Jack by himself is a very interesting character with strange and twisted motivations, making this section a bit grotesque but far more engaging than the rest of the novel.
Characterization:
To the writing world, the term “Mary Sue” is a curse, and to have one in your novel is anathema. A Mary Sue is a female character that is perfect in every facet, from personality and looks (invariably every man falls in love with her, and sometimes the women, too) to sometimes supernatural ability.
Sir Richard Francis Burton is the male version of this: a Gary Stu. He is incapable of being wrong, and so skilled with disguise that he was able to fool a group of pilgrims he traveled to Mecca with into believing he was an Arab. It’s also stated several times, at least once by almost every character, that his facial structure is savage and often makes men hostile to him, but it doesn’t in the least prevent him from being able to talk to anyone across social classes, or every eligible young woman from falling in love with him. Even his enemies seem affected by him, and when given the opportunity to kill him and be done with it, they choose instead to only wound him, or better yet, give a speech. Burton himself is headstrongly oblivious, makes some terrible decisions (which the book either excuses or uses as fodder for his dark and occasionally tortured demeanor), and a bit of a gender chauvinist.
Burton’s counterpart is Algernon Swinburne, a drunk and a follower of Marquis de Sade (which you will be reminded of at every turn). The novel tells us that he is a failed poet, making it difficult to discern how he pays for the brandy he drowns himself in. This is a man who doesn’t seem quite human, as he dances about, speaks in an exuberantly high-pitched voice that’s annoying even to read, and doesn’t react to fear. He is relatable only in the sense that everyone knows how irritating it is to have a mosquito buzzing in your ear.
Everyone else is used mainly as a vehicle for exposition or a sudden, fumbling flashback. Swinburne, who’s supposed to be Burton’s partner and the second main character, falls victim to this. The interests of the main antagonists seem to be less world domination and more monologues, and they likely would have succeeded (by this point, you’re nearly rooting for them to win out of sheer frustration) if they simply followed the plan instead of talking about it. The Strange Affair is not populated with characters; it’s populated with a variety of miniature Wikipedias.
The Strange Affair of Spring-Heeled Jack is less steampunk mystery and more tragedy, due to the unfortunate pay-off of an otherwise incredible premise. 1 ½ out of 5 stars.
Four factions are shaping the landscape of 1861 London: The Technologists, responsible for every new contraption that pollutes the city air; the Rakes, anarchists all; the Eugenicists, who breed animals to fill certain niches and provide unpaid labor; and the Libertines, who oppose repression and advocate creativity and vision. But there is far more going on here than meets the eye. Werewolves, or loup-garous, are terrorizing the slums and kidnapping young chimney-sweeps, and an outlandish apparition nick-named Spring-Heeled Jack is wandering London and assaulting young women, then disappearing. Sir Richard Francis Burton, a famous explorer, stands amidst the chaos and has been commissioned by Lord Palmerston to find out exactly what’s been going on, and go to any lengths to set things to rights.
Style and Technique:
The Strange Affair of Spring-Heeled Jack is written in the third-person, following Captain Burton and occasionally his young friend, an eccentric poet named Algernon Swinburne. While the events surrounding these two have the potential to make a daring adventure of a story, author Mark Hodder seems intent on dragging his premise through the mud by relying on convenience and insipidity. The foreshadowing is clunky and unconvincing. The explanations given for the new technologies and the work of the Eugenicists are completely unbelievable and have only the very slightest grounding in anything real, which fails to give them credibility. Hodder stretches our suspension of disbelief to the absolute limits, and then shatters it with the appearances of dozens of famous names: Oscar Wilde, Charles Darwin, Florence Nightingale, Richard Mockton Milnes among them. Some of these familiar names are mentioned once and never again, and serve no overall purpose except to add just a dash of “What the hell is going on and why won’t it stop” to this smorgasbord of incredulity.
Things don’t get better as the novel proceeds. Every character speaks in a highly twee fashion, overly jovial and inane. Finally, despite the large amount of female characters involved in the story, every single one of them is one dimensional, flighty, stupid, or only there to be sexually assaulted. This is especially unfortunate because many of the female characters have great potential to become something actually interesting, but the potential is half-heartedly used, off-screen, or abandoned altogether.
While some exceptions must be made for these issues because the setting is steampunk Victorian England and the reader must take into account the times, Hodder maintains his trend of running away with what is acceptable, making the story rather like a painting done in only primary colors, with no subtlety or shading.
The saving grace of this novel—or rather, the part that everyone should skip to and not bother with the rest—is Part Two: Being the True History of Spring-Heeled Jack. This part is like a novella on its own, where Hodder’s talent, thought by now to be a myth, really shines. It’s fast-paced, fascinating, and obviously deals with the origin of Spring-Heeled Jack and how he’s affected Victorian London. Spring-Heeled Jack by himself is a very interesting character with strange and twisted motivations, making this section a bit grotesque but far more engaging than the rest of the novel.
Characterization:
To the writing world, the term “Mary Sue” is a curse, and to have one in your novel is anathema. A Mary Sue is a female character that is perfect in every facet, from personality and looks (invariably every man falls in love with her, and sometimes the women, too) to sometimes supernatural ability.
Sir Richard Francis Burton is the male version of this: a Gary Stu. He is incapable of being wrong, and so skilled with disguise that he was able to fool a group of pilgrims he traveled to Mecca with into believing he was an Arab. It’s also stated several times, at least once by almost every character, that his facial structure is savage and often makes men hostile to him, but it doesn’t in the least prevent him from being able to talk to anyone across social classes, or every eligible young woman from falling in love with him. Even his enemies seem affected by him, and when given the opportunity to kill him and be done with it, they choose instead to only wound him, or better yet, give a speech. Burton himself is headstrongly oblivious, makes some terrible decisions (which the book either excuses or uses as fodder for his dark and occasionally tortured demeanor), and a bit of a gender chauvinist.
Burton’s counterpart is Algernon Swinburne, a drunk and a follower of Marquis de Sade (which you will be reminded of at every turn). The novel tells us that he is a failed poet, making it difficult to discern how he pays for the brandy he drowns himself in. This is a man who doesn’t seem quite human, as he dances about, speaks in an exuberantly high-pitched voice that’s annoying even to read, and doesn’t react to fear. He is relatable only in the sense that everyone knows how irritating it is to have a mosquito buzzing in your ear.
Everyone else is used mainly as a vehicle for exposition or a sudden, fumbling flashback. Swinburne, who’s supposed to be Burton’s partner and the second main character, falls victim to this. The interests of the main antagonists seem to be less world domination and more monologues, and they likely would have succeeded (by this point, you’re nearly rooting for them to win out of sheer frustration) if they simply followed the plan instead of talking about it. The Strange Affair is not populated with characters; it’s populated with a variety of miniature Wikipedias.
The Strange Affair of Spring-Heeled Jack is less steampunk mystery and more tragedy, due to the unfortunate pay-off of an otherwise incredible premise. 1 ½ out of 5 stars.
The story took a very strange left-turn about 2/3 of the way through, when we were introduced to Charles Darwin and Florence Nightingale.
However, underlying all of this, this is basically a cautionary tale about time-travel. The best part of the book was the true story of Spring-Heeled Jack.
However, underlying all of this, this is basically a cautionary tale about time-travel. The best part of the book was the true story of Spring-Heeled Jack.
adventurous
mysterious
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
No - just ... no - I wanted and tried and kept going - this to me was force feeding myself a novel filled with characters I did not care about and enemies that were not believable or reasonable to be bad guys - I mean, at some point, I have to give up on this, and it happened when i was almost half way through - I will close this book, never to be opened again, and not lose any sleep for whatever happens to anyone in this book - ever - I am sorry, I know that this is supposed to be an enjoyable affair, but it truly is some of the most boring modern writing that I have read in quite some time.
I really wanted to like this series. The premise is great – a time-traveler went back in time, created a major change, and set the entire future askew. It mainly focuses on real historical characters, which makes for some great cameos and wonderful historic background. But then the author takes so much time setting up the scene, the tone, and the characters, that all the action happens in the last few chapters of the book. Really, it does. It takes the author two-thirds, or maybe three-fourths of the book to tell the reader about the period of time, the characters and their real-life history counterparts, etc... that all the action is condensed into about three chapters. Wonderful for those who really love that history, tedious if you just want something, anything, to happen.
Well. 2.5 stars. I mean. It was a little more entertaining that merely "OK" but I couldn't say that I particularly liked it. It's just that it drags and drags and drags and then the final 15% is pretty good.
Edit: Sometimes, even years later, I'll start thinking about a book that I read previously and find myself wondering at the self that gave such a low rating.
so in retrospect, I'm adjusting my rating a bit higher because I did like the story...even though it dragged in places.
Edit: Sometimes, even years later, I'll start thinking about a book that I read previously and find myself wondering at the self that gave such a low rating.
so in retrospect, I'm adjusting my rating a bit higher because I did like the story...even though it dragged in places.
Plot: absurd and overly complicated. There is much action, but little sense.
Characterization: virtually nonexistent. People are differentiated only by one or two defining features (i.e. Burton has a fierce and savage face; A. C. Swinburne never spoke unless he could squeal and bounce as well). Everyone talked with the same voice and cadence, though they came from different class and station, even different centuries. Would a man from 400 years in the future speak the same way as a Victorian, yet can still be driven insane by culture shock? Human psychology is not so fragile. And that insanity seems only indicated by more and more copious swearing. I don't recall ever seeing this many f-words in an sf novel.
The casual, even sexist, treatment of women had me checking whether I was reading something from the Golden Age. All the female characters in this novel are hollow cardboard. They faint, they tremble, they go insane upon the slightest violation, sexual or not. This must be why Burton can so easily end his engagement to Isabel in favor of his career, though they were engaged for years--justifying it as being better for her. (The brief coda that this helped to ultimately free her from the "shackles" of society and fate feels tacked-on and does not alleviate.) The termination a long engagement to a woman of good family should have greatly impugned Burton's honor as a Victorian gentleman--"I could not love thee, dear, so much, loved I not honor more" and what not--yet is treated as less than a blip on the radar of le societe. Then again, fool am I to expect any kind of realism to this novel.
The villains are even worse. What are their purposes? One is a dissolute aristocrat with a general predilection for eeeevil, but the others? A list of who's-who from the roster of Great Victorians, presumably having admirable morality and character in their day, yet here are twisted people out to wreak havoc for their own, unrevealed, purpose. Why is Florence Nightingale experimenting with genetic manipulation, to create tortured humanoid animals that explode at random? Why does Charles Darwin combine his brain with Francis Galton, and demonstrates so clearly that he has zero regard for human life?
World-building: ludicrous. The author took some random, cool-seeming "steampunk" creatures and technology, squished them together willy-nilly without regard or reason. In what rational universe would genetic manipulation create message-carrying parrots that, unavoidably, also toss-in random swear words into the relay? Or the grafting of a mechanical calculating machine onto a human brain to result in...what?
-------------------------------------------------------
I love movies such as The City of Lost Children, with equally dark steampunk aesthetic, much of it making no real sense, so it's not the weirdness or general illogic that put me off. Rather, it's the feeling that these things have NO relationship with one another, do not even belong in the same bizarro universe. You could be zany and hilarious, you can be dark and strange, but it takes real skill to be both, and this novel is not a successful attempt.
What a mess. I took months to get through this book, hoping for eventual improvement. There was none.
Characterization: virtually nonexistent. People are differentiated only by one or two defining features (i.e. Burton has a fierce and savage face; A. C. Swinburne never spoke unless he could squeal and bounce as well). Everyone talked with the same voice and cadence, though they came from different class and station, even different centuries. Would a man from 400 years in the future speak the same way as a Victorian, yet can still be driven insane by culture shock? Human psychology is not so fragile. And that insanity seems only indicated by more and more copious swearing. I don't recall ever seeing this many f-words in an sf novel.
The casual, even sexist, treatment of women had me checking whether I was reading something from the Golden Age. All the female characters in this novel are hollow cardboard. They faint, they tremble, they go insane upon the slightest violation, sexual or not. This must be why Burton can so easily end his engagement to Isabel in favor of his career, though they were engaged for years--justifying it as being better for her. (The brief coda that this helped to ultimately free her from the "shackles" of society and fate feels tacked-on and does not alleviate.) The termination a long engagement to a woman of good family should have greatly impugned Burton's honor as a Victorian gentleman--"I could not love thee, dear, so much, loved I not honor more" and what not--yet is treated as less than a blip on the radar of le societe. Then again, fool am I to expect any kind of realism to this novel.
The villains are even worse. What are their purposes? One is a dissolute aristocrat with a general predilection for eeeevil, but the others? A list of who's-who from the roster of Great Victorians, presumably having admirable morality and character in their day, yet here are twisted people out to wreak havoc for their own, unrevealed, purpose. Why is Florence Nightingale experimenting with genetic manipulation, to create tortured humanoid animals that explode at random? Why does Charles Darwin combine his brain with Francis Galton, and demonstrates so clearly that he has zero regard for human life?
World-building: ludicrous. The author took some random, cool-seeming "steampunk" creatures and technology, squished them together willy-nilly without regard or reason. In what rational universe would genetic manipulation create message-carrying parrots that, unavoidably, also toss-in random swear words into the relay? Or the grafting of a mechanical calculating machine onto a human brain to result in...what?
-------------------------------------------------------
I love movies such as The City of Lost Children, with equally dark steampunk aesthetic, much of it making no real sense, so it's not the weirdness or general illogic that put me off. Rather, it's the feeling that these things have NO relationship with one another, do not even belong in the same bizarro universe. You could be zany and hilarious, you can be dark and strange, but it takes real skill to be both, and this novel is not a successful attempt.
What a mess. I took months to get through this book, hoping for eventual improvement. There was none.
The concept of steam operas doesn't particularly appeal to me - I had [b:Leviathan|6050678|Leviathan (Leviathan, #1)|Scott Westerfeld|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1275694232s/6050678.jpg|6226342] on my tbr list for a while before finally deciding that it was too much steel-and-guts for my taste. I am not averse to reading this genre, really, but I prefer less gimmick and more story in my books, so I can't rely on anachronistic contraptions to carry me along; I need a meaty plot.
I found this book hard to plough through. Hodder's habit of referring to Sir Richard Burton as 'the famous explorer' or 'the king's agent' annoyed me, as did the fleeting appearances of 'Quips' the newsboy (whom I would have liked to have heard more from) and the clipped utterances of Detective Inspector Honesty. It all seemed rather pretentious. Even the time travel portion failed to engage me, being as it was rather hastily put together.
There are some amusing parts, like the innovative ways in which the animals are used in Hodder's world. Overall, though, this was a big disappointment!
I found this book hard to plough through. Hodder's habit of referring to Sir Richard Burton as 'the famous explorer' or 'the king's agent' annoyed me, as did the fleeting appearances of 'Quips' the newsboy (whom I would have liked to have heard more from) and the clipped utterances of Detective Inspector Honesty. It all seemed rather pretentious. Even the time travel portion failed to engage me, being as it was rather hastily put together.
There are some amusing parts, like the innovative ways in which the animals are used in Hodder's world. Overall, though, this was a big disappointment!
The book was engaging, absorbing, and bizarre. I often enjoy seeing existing historical figures as characters in books, and this was especially pleasing as many of the figures chosen are well-known, but not common in fiction. The way the plot accounts for the differentiation between our own history and the world presented in the book works really well. The book presents some of my favourite conventions of steampunk London, but has plenty of originality as well.