Rob Thurman

This isn't a novel as much as a short story strung together with a novella and padded with a buttload of recap and filler. (For those of you that missed Susanne and me in chemistry 101 at Occidental College, a 'buttload' generally means 'enough to spill over the sides of whatever containment device you may be using,' resulting in a mad rush to the neutralizer. Sodium bicarbonate was our friend).

At any rate, the lowdown is that the first section is taken up with a worldwide rel="nofollow" _target="_top">puck reunion, providing the opportunity for Robin the puck to make about a hundred sexual innuendos about the size of his parts and who he's used them with, and Cal to voice his adolescent disgust at sexual intimacy another hundred times. As a self-contained character highlight, it doesn't fit with the rest of the book in plot or focus. In a great--or even good--book, a character might get a chance to do a solo jam, but it should be integrated with the rest of the music. Here it's not. Moreover, the sexual jokes are repetitive and, ultimately, not funny after the first eyeroll. Terminal boredom.

At the same time, Niko's father appears on the doorstep, providing an opportunity for Cal to tell us all about his philosophy of brotherly love, just in case we missed it in the first six books. In fact, Cal will tell what brotherly affection means about every other page. I'm not kidding, people. It's 'tell don't show' to the nth degree. It also gives a chance to recap their upbringing and (again) complain about their mother's lack of motherly instincts and emotional attachment. It is unbelievably repetitious, borderline misogynist, and used as a crutch for antagonism between Cal and Niko's father. It's extremism gives me pause, because Cal's arguments consist of 1) you left Niko with a monster--our mother, and 2) you left Niko with a monster--me. Boring and worthless plot-wise, because 1) their mom is dead since book one, and 2) Cal's supposed to have made 'peace' with the degree of his monstrosity.

Once the pucks clear out of New York, the focus shifts to the main plot, specifically, some sort of supernatural hunting the brothers, using a mechanical device as a stalking horse. As far as plots go, it's a rehash of the earlier books with the Auphe--bad monster, people as food, world domination, yada yada. Cal's "mental defect" of being unable to build more than one transportation gate every three days is the deux ex machina that gives an out from untenable situations but limits Cal's power so that he can be up against a tougher antagonist.

I was also irritated by the portentous but vague reappearance of old character in the antagonist's thoughts, a character that hasn't been seen for a number of books, abandoned as a plot line. To bring back a character, hint that something awful happened but then refuse to elaborate on what/why is a cheap attempt to develop tension and emotional engagement. I wonder if Thurman feels she has to engage us through harm to a likeable character because it's so challenging to empathize with our three main men, Niko, Cal and Robin?

Ultimately, Thurman seems to have run out of ideas on how to make her plots interesting. The last two books had jump-started my interest in the series, and this one reminded me of everything I don't like--Cal's endless snark (trope:first person smartass), the repetitive writing, the general oinkism from using tropey-trope characters (the hero, the modern anti-hero, the sexual deviant) For me, this has become again a library-only series to read if/when I get around to it.

Cross posted at http://clsiewert.wordpress.com/2013/05/05/doubletake-by-rob-thurman-or-just-pass...… (more)

Thurman's Leandros series tends to be very dark, both in world view and in the voice of the sardonic, damaged narrator, Cal. It's one way the book distinguishes itself from it's UF brethren, but also inhibits me from issuing a ringing endorsement. I can only take so much of the sarcastic, callous, lazy narrator before my inner drill sergeant is tempted to provide a swift kick in the narrative.

One of the most interesting things about the series is that the relationship between the brothers is a focal point for their characters and for plot development, and that seems a little more unique in a genre known for independent and wise-cracking detectives. Nightlife introduces us to Cal and Niko's attempts to avoid a particular group of monsters, the Auphe, as they take refuge among the human herd in New York City. New York, of course, is full of monsters, termed 'Grendels' by the brothers, providing numerous sources of information and conflict.

Thurman's writing is a good example of the better urban fantasy novel. World-building is well done. She frequently weaves in major literary references, particularly Shakespeare, but is usually kind enough to reference it for the education-impaired reader. Character development seems strong, and it's an interesting choice to have the caustic Cal be the narrative voice instead of his more educated and thoughtful ninja-brother. They have a seriously co-dependent relationship. I enjoyed the introduction of Robin, who provided touches of lecherous humor, but also a streak of believable lonliness. The monsters were multi-dimensional as well. The bridge troll was particularly horrifying, but save some horror for the fiendish Auphe. At the point that Darkling manifests, the narrative takes a particularly dark turn. While I believed the merged personality and the psychopathic overtones, it wasn't a character I enjoyed reading. The first time through, I tended to skim it just to get the major plot points. During the second, I focused more on the quality of the writing, and I have to say it was very impressive, but just not to my taste. The resolution was believable, if somewhat predictable, and introduced two characters that will continue to appear in later books. I enjoyed the NYC setting which is decently realized but doesn't overtake the story.

A three and a half star ride.

Cross posted at http://clsiewert.wordpress.com/2013/07/11/nightlife-by-rob-thurman/… (more)

Another dark entry into the Leandros series, this time focusing on the pursuit of mass murderer Sawney Beane the Redcap, and on the mysterious attempts to assassinate Robin Goodfellow. Cal is less despair-ridden and more sardonic, which is a welcome relief in an overall grim story. I know the wisecracking narrator can be overdone, especially in the UF genre, but it seems appropriate here. This is Cal talking, the one who's been kidnapped, had his personality damaged, been trained to violence and known no loving connections but Niko. His flippancy is part of a picture of emotional damage and distance, and one of the enjoyable developments in Madhouse comes when he realizes the extent to which his inner circle has broadened and his emotional risks have increased. Even though the books are action-oriented, there is quite a bit of emotional development as well. In fact, there will be a... hug.

As usual, the brother relationship is well done, with moments of being swatted upside the head standing in for pats on the back, and threats of violent training replacing kudos. School of hard knocks gone exponential. Although tracking down Sawney is what drives the story, it's the side characters that kept me interested. We witness complicated interactions between Ishiah the peri and Robin; Promise the vampire assists them with their search; Delilah the wolf gets involved in the search for fun and money. Hints abound at their own complicated pasts; all are fascinating additions to the cast. Thurman's mythology and monsters are always interesting as well, and we meet another boggle, and her almost endearing brood, a pack of spider-women and a Valkyrie among others. I thought Thurman did a beautiful job of developing complexity in her depiction of a boggle, one of the monsters. In a more uplifting development, Cal finally gets laid, after turning down Robin's first two matches. "She may--may try to eat you afterward, but it's rare... Only if she she finds you very, very charming, and with your personality, I think we know what the odds are on that."

Overall, it's a bloody story--how could anything centering on a mass murderer not be?--with too many descriptions of mutilated bodies and eviscerations to be a truly great book for me. People who aren't bothered by horror will likely be untroubled by it.… (more)

Loved, loved, loved. Thurman has done a lovely twist on the old amnesia device, successfully re-inventing Cal and writing a riveting book. While technically it could be a stand-alone book, it's genius is in the setting of the series and character development.

The sarcasm is much less dark and self-flagellating and closer to genuine playfulness--more than once I giggled with Cal's lines like "Sun in the sky, bacon in the skillet, and a cell phone for everyone past the first stage of mitosis." Then there was Miss Terrwyn saying, "You have a mouth on you, don't you? I was thinking you were the quiet sort, but maybe I was only thinking you should be the quiet sort." And Cal's boast of confidence, "While I might have the haircut of a sheepdog, I was one badass mother-effing sheepdog." Or during a fight with a pack of spiders: "The other one fell but dragged itself behind the refrigerator. Wasn't that always the way? Off to the ultimate spider sanctuary." The section with the mummified cats in Robin's house was merited a laugh out loud--"Salome perched on top of that giant refrigerator with dimly glowing eyes crossed in pleasure... It was only right. Every power-mad villain merited minions." It was been torture to put it down so I could do those annoying things like go to work and sleep.

The writing has flashes of beauty that I don't often see in the Leandros series, perhaps because it is so preoccupied with the darkness in Cal's life. Cal's re-introduction to Promise deserves mention: "she was more of a marble statue under a cascade of moonlight, smelling like flowers and ivy--the glory of a weeping graveyard angel."

I found the plot engrossing and still somewhat unpredictable, even as we knew it would revolve around the returning memories. Cal's memories started to return in fragments but had the surprise of them receding again, both for organic and inorganic reasons. Much better development than the stately pace or sudden return amnesia artifice.

Perhaps my only complain is that even on re-read, I'm still not sure about the gestalt moment when Cal pieced together Niko's role in his memory impairment. It seems like a eureka! sort of moment that deserves more reflection, but instead we get cagey hints that Cal has realized something but needs to check it out. That coyness was inappropriate for such high-quality character development .

Warning, my star rating is entirely in context of the series--until Roadkill, I've been feeling like I was losing interest in the series. Roadkill gave it a new spark and Blackout set off fireworks.… (more)