Twelve Kings in Sharakhai, by Bradley P. Beaulieu

This is book one of The Song of the Shattered Sands, and if it is typical for the series, promises a rollicking ride. It takes place in a world with distinct Greater Middle Eastern influences: the women wear silk dresses, headscarves, and jalabiyas, while the men wear kaftans, abas, and burnooses. The city of Sharakhai is in the middle of a huge desert, the most unique feature of which is using boats with runners and sleds to sail over the sand. A major difference in the narrative from its real-life influence is that women aren't treated as a second class; the (female) hero doesn't have to fight prejudice, genuflect to men as a rule, or disguise her sex to be effective and respected. What she does fight are immortal wizard kings and disfigured nightmare creatures right out of the supernatural horror genre. Combined with blood magic and gods that still walk the earth, this is a fascinating world in which to tell a story.

The plot is fairly straightforward, with only a partial resolution—fitting for the beginning of a hexalogy. It does bounce back and forth in time which I found a bit jarring in places; Beaulieu always prefaces a time jump backwards with a phrase such as "Five years earlier..." but doesn't indicate when the narrative returns to the present. This made the narrative seem choppy to me, especially as the denouement approached. That said, it didn't significantly damage my enjoyment of the book, and can certainly see myself picking up more books in the future. Recommended for anyone that likes magnificent world-building, strong female characters, and a compelling story.

First Sentence:

In a small room beneath the largest of Sharakhai's fighting pits, Çeda sat on a wooden bench, tightening her fingerless gloves.

John Dies at the End, by David Wong

This is easily one of the stranger books I've ever read. Imagine an H.P. Lovecraft novel adapted to the screen by W.D. Richter, directed by Tarantino, and starring Bruce Campbell: that representation still doesn't reach the level of weirdness this book does. The plot follows two twenty-something friends that accidentally ingest a powerful drug that opens a door to another universe and forces them to fight off alien invaders. Along the way we are introduced to wig monsters, penis doorknobs, lamp-humping jellyfish, and a mysterious dog named Molly. A typical sentence reads, "I once saw a man's kidney grow tentacles, tear itself out of a ragged hole in his back and go slapping across my kitchen floor." And this occurs in the first 25 pages during a simple introduction; the happenings during the novel itself are much more bizarre. I found it to be both creepy and hilarious at the same time—I'm a sucker for deadpan delivery of lines like, "There is no possible combination of English words that would form a dumber plan than that."—but it does feel at times like it drags a bit and the story could be tightened up. John Dies at the End is outrageous enough that I suspect there are very few ambivalent reactions to it, but I for one loved it.

First Sentence:

Solving the following riddle will reveal the awful secret behind the universe, assuming you do not go utterly mad in the attempt.

100 Ghastly Little Ghost Stories, edited by Dziemianowicz, Weinberg, and Greenberg

I’ve always liked ghost stories, but this collection was largely pedestrian and disappointing. Coming Home by Nina Kiriki Hoffman was one of the only truly unnerving stories, dealing with the ghosts of guilt instead of the more traditional apparitions. O Come Little Children... by Chet Williamson was my other favorite; the twist at the end of this one truly snuck up on me, and with most of the other stories being so predictable this was doubly surprising. While one or two tales are worthy of being told around the campfire, the vast majority are easily forgettable.

First Sentence (from the introduction):

The ghost story is the oldest type of supernatural tale, and thus the one closest to the European oral storytelling tradition.

The History of Torture, by Daniel P. Mannix

Fascinating. For a book about such a morbid subject, this was hard to put down once I started it. From roughly 2 B.C. through World War II (this was written in 1964 and so none of the more recent incidents are discussed), Mannix gives an overview of both the techniques of torture and the reasons why it was used. Clearly well researched, the descriptions of some of the horrors are meticulous and explicit; I got the idea more than once that the author was a bit of a sadist and taking glee in the more grisly sections. The biggest drawback to me was that it was very Euro-centric; China, India, and the pre-1492 Americas get mentions but nothing like the detail found in the bulk of the book.

Without references or a bibliography it is hard to consider this a scholarly effort, but I still learned quite a bit. For instance, starting in roughly the 6th century the use of torture to obtain information or a confession virtually disappeared in Europe. Centuries later its return occurred when the Church started to be seriously challenged by new ideas and reform; it turned to torture to get heretics to “confess,” and the institution has been utilized somewhere in the world nearly continuously every since. Something else I found interesting was the back story of the nursery rhyme Jack and Jill. In Germany adulterous men and women were once fastened together by the neck with a heavy yoke and then forced to carry buckets of water up a steep hill to the castle in the center of town. They would often fall and get seriously hurt; somehow this led to the sing-song fable our kids sing today. Another good anecdote is the history of the phrase, “third degree.” Referring to the stages of torture, the First Degree was the questioning of the prisoner, the Second Degree was showing the accused the instruments, and the Third Degree was the actual infliction of pain. Today the term has been watered down to mean simply intensive interrogation, but the etymology is much darker.

Mannix closes by drawing analogies between today’s corporal punishment and yesterday’s torture, but the summary is ambiguous and he doesn’t take a strong stand for either side. “No set formula can be used in the treatment of a criminal, and it is impossible to say that corporal punishment is never effective or that it is always effective. Too much depends on the individual’s emotional state, the reasons for his acts, the era, and the manner and method of inflicting (or withholding) the punishment. Formerly corporal punishment was regarded as a panacea for all problems; today many people consider it too terrible to ever be used. Yet in certain cases it would seem to be not only effective but justifiable.” I find it telling that nearly 50 years after this book was written we continue to have this debate; clearly there are no moral absolutes when it comes to corporal punishment—or torture.

First Sentence:

Antiochus Epiphanes, King of Syria, did not like Jews.

Battle Royale, by Koushun Takami

Battle Royale details a ruthless program where middle-school students are armed and dumped on a small isolated island. They are forced to fight each other until there is only one child left alive, while the totalitarian government monitors the whole thing. To make sure the teenagers obey the rules and try to kill each other, metal collars are fastened around their necks that will explode if they linger in a forbidden area or attempt to remove them. If twenty-four hours pass without a murder, all of the collars will be detonated simultaneously. A few students willingly participate in the slaughter, which gives everyone on the island a palpable fear of their classmates.

Very violent and fairly graphic, the manga roots of this novel are easy to see. This was described to me as a Lord of the Flies for our generation; after reading it I can easily see the comparison. Lord of the Flies detailed the psychological unravelling of a group of marooned kids on a desert island, where Battle Royale focuses more on how commonplace violence has become. While both involve children in untenable situations, Battle Royale is much more horrific because the kids are forced to act against their classmates by an uncaring government.

While a fascinating read, it was somewhat difficult to follow in places. I found the Asian names hard to keep straight, especially because I’m not savvy enough to tell which names are male and female. Yoshio, Kazuhiko, Noriko, and Yukiko are four examples—the first two are male, the last two female—of names I confused throughout. Luckily there was a roster in the front of the book telling who was who, but it was distracting to flip around when I needed help. Even so, this was a compelling read that was hard to put down. Very entertaining.

First Sentence:

As the bus entered the prefectural capital of Takamatsu, garden suburbs transformed into city streets of multicolored neon, headlights of oncoming cars, and checkered lights of office buildings.

Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley

I thought that I was familiar with the story of Frankenstein and his monster, but I was surprised at how different it was from my expectations. There was no spooky castle in the mountains, no lightning to bring the monster to life, no fear of fire, no Igor. Instead, the creature is created in an apartment and ends up being both intelligent and well-spoken. The story doesn’t focus on the monster, but on the torment that the doctor puts himself through after bringing his creation to life. His angst was a bit much to take (the good doctor wails loudly at seemingly every opportunity), but didn’t blunt the main theme of not all knowledge should be pursued.

The writing is surprisingly unimpressive for such a famous work; every character (including the monster!) speaks with the same flowery style that sounds as if they consult a thesaurus before making a sound. For instance, the monster has this to say when he first confronts Frankenstein: “Remember, that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam; but I am rather thy fallen angel ... I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy and I again shall be virtuous. If you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends!” Quite a mouthful from a being that learned English by eavesdropping.

First Sentence:

You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.

Dracula, by Bram Stoker

Easy to see why this is a classic. The story is compelling, well-written, and a fun read. The style is interesting: it is a series of diary entries and letters from the various protagonists, presented in chronological order. I’ve read other chronicle-style novels before, but not one where the entries were from a variety of different characters. Often the entries would overlap, providing multiple viewpoints for the same events. Very effective.

I was surprised that the Count himself was only directly on the stage for maybe a quarter of the novel. Considering he was the title character and one of the most famous fictional creations of all time, I expected a lot more of him. The absence wasn’t disappointing, though; in fact, it simply made him more mysterious and sinister. If written today there would be a complete back-story telling us how Dracula came to be and giving him some degree of sympathy; it simply isn’t needed though.

The story was enthralling, even knowing the basic plot from all the various movies and derivative works through the years. As with most reinterpretations, none of them have been completely accurate so there were still some surprises in these pages. While I knew what the ending would eventually be, the path to get there was still entertaining.

First Sentence:

Left Munich at 8.35 p.m. on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6.46, but train was an hour late.