Airframe (Michael Crichton, 1996)

Michael Crichton (who sadly passed away in 2008) made a very lucrative career out of novels like this: techno-thrillers that relied very heavily on genuine facts and figures to produce a compelling fictional narrative.

The plot of Airframe is effectively an episode of Air Crash Investigation with added corporate espionage. It’s also a great ride. Crichton very rightly leaves the big reveal to the final few pages yet keeps the reader guessing throughout. Much like Brown’s Deception Point (a book as equally flawed stylistically but just as thrilling), the reader can guess the conclusion will end in a satisfactory manner yet the journey there is riddled with turns of the unexpected.

Like a rollercoaster, you sometimes just want a brief thrill. This book certainly delivers on the front.

4/5

Dune (Frank Herbert, 1965)

I tried, really I did. I’ve been getting into a bad habit of late of giving up on books half way through and with Dune; I was determined to get there. But, alas, it was not meant to be. Whilst the book itself is perfectly fine, well-written and loaded with ideas that are exciting and innovative for a science fiction novel, it’s just too heavy with ideas to flow well (for me at least).

The main problem, with me at least, is that Dune reeks of a fantasy set in the future in deep space. I have general problems with fantasy and find that science fiction, a genre I’ve only recently gotten interested in thanks to the excellent The Forever War, can often times be intrinsically linked. Dune is a perfect example of this. Whilst it features a far off planet, space travel, special habitat suits and worms the size of Norway; the narrative is bogged down with quasi-religious philosophy that I found intensely hard to swallow. This itself with frustrating as there is nothing overly wrong with the book for the most part: the prose is terrific and it’s ideas are at least interesting but with endless chapters devoted to prophecies and the training of ancient arts, I just found it too much to take in, a shame as I can see why it’s been heralded as a classic.

That said, it has done little to dampen my interest in science fiction. I have just bought Ringworld and Rendezvous With Rama, which I am very excited to read. But I think I’ll delve into something a little less cerebral.

3.5/5

Jaws (Peter Benchley, 1974)

Jaws is a novel with minimal shark action that is populated with entirely hateable characters, a sentiment shared by the man that would later direct the film adaptation. Said adaptation jettisons much of the cumbersome back story (Hooper's affair with Brody's wife, Mayor Vaughn's ties to organised crime) and drastically changes the dynamics of the main players: In the film Brody and Hooper are pals, here they hate each other. The problem is that the populous of Amity are deeply unlikable. Brody comes across as confrontational then immediately defensive, Ellen (his wife) isn't thankful for anything she has and Hooper is a young spoiled rich cunt that spends most of the time either bounding with naïve abandon or sulking whenever he gets bitch slapped. Quint is the only constant and every bit as intriguing as his portrayal on screen.

It does, however, pick up toward the last third. Despite a discernable lack of flow at the start (seriously, for a book about a killer shark, all of about fifteen pages is dedicated it), once the hunt for the epominous beastie starts it somewhat earns it's thriller moniker. Much like the film, the tension is palpable, if a bit brief in literature form. It's just a shame that so much time is wasted getting there.

It's ok. There are those I know that loved it and whilst the prose is perfectly fine (Benchley actually has a dab hand at this whole writing thing), it wears it's flaws on its sleeve in bright fluorescent colours.

3/5

Insomnia (Stephen King, 1994)

This is the first Stephen King novel since Dreamcatcher that I’ve put down half way through.

Seriously, what the fuck is up with this book? Whilst the initial set up is interesting, the piece is horrifically over-written (another case of too little editing) and delves into territory that is not only ludicrous but also utterly bonkers. Firing beams of light from people’s fingers? People’s souls manifesting as balloons on strings? This is supposed to be a horror novel, not a comedy. Strands of the plot are so flat out mental that it immediately takes you out of the narrative. I shook my head on more than one occasion out of sheer disbelief. Only a couple of years before King had delivered what I now believe to be his last truly great non Dark Tower work, Needful Things, a book that warrants a 700 + page length in terms of it’s epic scope and huge array of characters. Insomnia is only the same length due to King’s inability to reign it in. The author himself, in his excellent memoir “On Writing”, even admits that this and his subsequent novel “Rose Madder” are his most over-written of his works. No shit.

Other than the fact that, as always, King’s style is effortlessly readable, I would advise avoiding this one. It really just doesn’t work.

2/5

The Woman in Black (Susan Hill, 1983)

Breezy and somewhat effective little chiller, The Woman in Black is no mastepeice and is, in fact, very much bested by its stage-play counter part, which remains the single most frightening experience of my life. The things is that it's difficult to get the chills across not only on the page but within the confines of a story that is no longer than 150 pages. Written very well (attempting to channel the prose of classic fiction and succeeding) The Woman in Black is by no means bad but, at the same time, is instantly forgettable.

See the play. If you like a good fright, the play is the thing to see.

3/5