I don’t know why, but I do.
Jurassic Park (Michael Crichton) ***
I’ve always loved the movie, so I wanted to read the book too. I was struck by how different it was both in plot and in tone; some characters that make it out in the film don’t survive the book and vice versa, and some of the characters have been conflated or split up. Lex and Tim, as characters, are incredibly irritating and flat in the book (Lex’ entire personality is ‘annoying child’. That’s it. That’s the depth to which it goes) and Tim is a sort of repository of boy scout wisdom and dinosaur obsession. The other characters don’t fare much better, though I’ll give Crichton credit for writing a book in the eighties with a female character who does more than pine after a man and be rescued. The dinosaurs themselves are genuinely scary, though, and with the very successful movie being what it is, it’s easy to forget the creative leaps Crichton took to get the plot to work. It was a bit of a letdown, but an entertaining read nonetheless.
Other People’s Houses (DC Ffion Morgan #2, Clare Mackintosh) ****
The Curse of Mackintosh strikes again: I don’t like anything she writes with the exception of the Ffion Morgan books, which are a lot of fun. Most of that is down to Ffion, who has a gloriously messy personality. The setting – a small town on the border of England and Wales – does a lot of the heavy lifting there too. In this installment, a burglar is wreaking havoc on a small, gated community where the very rich and very insufferable live. Meanwhile, a young estate agent is found dead; what at first looks like a kayaking accident is soon revealed to be homicide. Ffion and her on again, off again boyfriend Leo (who works on the English side of the border) soon begin to realise the crimes are connected. The plot is taut but Mackintosh keeps things fairly light-hearted in this fun thriller.
All Systems Red (The Murderbot Diaries #1, Martha Wells)
Artificial Condition (The Murderbot Diaries #2, Martha Wells)
Obligatory preamble about how I don’t usually read SF but enjoyed this one. Murderbot is well known in the Cannonball verse, so I thought I would check it out. I got what I was hoping for: a funny and exciting tale about a robot who has hacked into his own system, likes bingewatching terrible shows and is awkward around humans. Murderbot as a main character is a hoot and one sympathises with his general dislike of humans. I was a little befuddled by the plot sometimes; the breakneck pace that Well uses isn’t always suited to what she wants to say. Nevertheless, I had a lot of fun and I couldn’t wait to start the next one. It was more of a good thing. I’ll probably read the rest of the series soon; I’m quite curious where Murderbot will go and how he will develop.
Fingersmith (Sarah Waters) ****
When I was reading this book, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d read it before, though I was pretty sure I hadn’t; the plot is uncomfortably close to Wilkie Collins’ The Woman in White. It’s an odd choice to pick that one to update because if there’s one author who generally doesn’t need updating, it’s Collins. Regardless, it’s a solid book about the seedier side of Victoriana, spiced up with an LGBTQ-subplot and a bit of girl power. The ending was a delight, but the novel was a lot darker than I expected. The second part of the book basically retells the same story as the first part but from a different perspective, and that’s where it dragged for me. It also has Wuthering Heights-levels of bleakness, something I wasn’t entirely prepared for. Aside from that, it’s a cracking read and a very good book.
The Talented Mr Ripley (Patricia Highsmith) ***
Another classic I hadn’t yet read. Highsmith’s reverse picaresque about grifter Tom Ripley is a bit of an oddity. It’s well-written, but the way the novel deals with purported homosexuality hasn’t aged very well; Dicky’s constant No Homo-policy is grating (and, thankfully, something the cinematic adaptations have nuanced and updated quite a bit). Ripley himself is a creep, but a talented one who manages to make things up as he goes along, with great success. I kept waiting for him to trip up, and there’s a lot of fun to be had in seeing him twist and snake his way into the place where he wants to be. It’s also rather sinister. That, and the fact that it takes a while to pick up steam (there’s a lot of swanning around the Italian riviera in the first half) made it a bit of a drag for me. It’s a good book, but I wasn’t sure I really enjoyed it.
Just For the Summer (Abby Jimenez) ***
I don’t think I’m made for romance; I enjoy the general spirit but I get hung up on the details. No couple are that perfect together. I appreciated the subplot about Emma’s selfish mother and the emotional control she still exerts, and Justin really does seem like a genuinely nice guy without being too perfect. He’s funny and effortlessly charming. But the way the novel ends rang hollow for me; it all comes together a bit too perfectly, and things like this just don’t happen in real life. And Jimenez hasn’t sold me on Minnesota either. It’s a fun book, but a forgettable one that slightly annoyed me because I’m a sourpuss.
Whiteout (R.S. Burnett) **
Rachael is a polar researcher by trade, but she’s settled down in London with her dull husband and her beloved daughter Izzy. Her relationship is rocky and when her mentor shows up demanding she come with him for a critical polar research expedition, she seizes the opportunity. Weeks later, she finds herself stranded in a hut in the Arctic wilderness, alone but for a radio broadcast that keeps repeating: there has been a nuclear attack in the UK. With no way to contact the outside world, Rachael begins to wonder if she is, perhaps, the only person left on the planet, when suddenly a man she thought was dead shows up. But how did he get there?
The rather original setting and the intriguing plot are sadly backed up by hackneyed writing that is made of clichés, and I was disappointed by the fact that a renowned expert like Rachael is driven mostly by thinking of her husband and child first. I guess that’s her mushy woman brain at work, or something. The writing is trite and the plot is predictable. It’s a great idea that made me appreciate the Crichton novel I read a lot more. In other hands, this could have been good; as it is, it’s largely forgettable.