Review: The Mark of Zorro

The Mark of Zorro by Johnston McCulley
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A rip-roaring, swashbuckling classic pulp adventure, providing part of the inspiration for both Batman and Superman, but set in Spanish California.

Zorro (which I didn't realize meant "Fox" in Spanish) is a champion of the oppressed under a corrupt governor; he stands up for the honest, godly friars, the simple "natives," and the proud hidalgo family that has got itself on the wrong side of the governor politically, giving the governor an excuse to pillage their properties for his own gain. Masked (with a mask that covers his mouth, unlike the many subsequent depictions), cloaked, and armed with pistols, a rapier, and a whip, he acts as a Robin Hood-style highwayman, robbing and otherwise punishing evildoers and protecting the innocent.

One thing that impressed me is that Zorro doesn't have things all his own way. He's at genuine risk of death or capture multiple times, and sometimes a turn of fate goes against him rather than in his favour, such as when he destroys a letter which, unbeknown to him, is a copy of one that's already been sent. This is one of the things that lifts this book above the usual run of pulp fiction.

At the time, I think the revelation right at the end that Zorro and the milquetoast caballero Don Diego were one and the same person was supposed to be a big surprise, but to a modern reader, rendered genre-savvy by superhero stories involving mild-mannered and/or wealthy alter egos to men of action, it's utterly obvious from the first. (There was a precedent - the Scarlet Pimpernel - but otherwise this is, if not the originator, at least the means of transmission of the trope to other properties.) He even engages in a love triangle in which he is his own rival, seeking to test and win the beautiful Senorita Lolita, daughter of the persecuted hidalgo who is out of favour with the dastardly governor. The parallel with Superman, Clark Kent and Lois Lane leaps immediately to mind. Lolita is, for her time, a strong female character, defiantly resisting the advances of the guard captain and riding for her life with considerable skill and daring.

Exactly how he switches identities is left vague; the questions of how he carries round his two outfits (including different saddles and horse tack), and why nobody recognizes his horse, aren't ever addressed. Nor do we really care, though, because there are plenty of swordfights, lots of riding about rapidly, daring maneuvers, chases, a rescue from jail, all good adventurous stuff. I can see why it was filmed the year after publication (with Douglas Fairbanks both producing and in the Zorro role). The film was popular enough that the book was republished under the movie's title, The Mark of Zorro, rather than the original The Curse of Capistrano, even though he only makes the iconic "Z" mark once.

Although Zorro is a champion of the oppressed natives when they get unjustly beaten or otherwise individually mistreated, it's taken as read that they are inferior beings who are in their proper place under the Europeans. Only one of them gets a name, and since he's deaf and dumb, he gets no lines; another gets a single line, but no name.

At the end, his antagonist is killed (in a legitimate duel, because they are both of the caballero class and thus allowed to kill each other legally; Zorro doesn't otherwise kill anyone, though he whips several people severely), and Zorro publicly reveals his secret identity to all after securing a commitment from the governor to be more just, or else. When the original standalone book became the first of a series, in an early instance of retconning, this was all ignored; the antagonist lived on, the secret identity was maintained, and Zorro went on fighting corruption and injustice.

I've read a couple of other Johnston McCully books, and they are a superior level of pulp fiction: well plotted, told in competent, fast-moving prose, with plenty of action, and heroic, noblebright protagonists whose abilities don't strain credibility too much. Nor does he rely on coincidence to keep his plots moving, which was almost a universal fault in books of the time. I'll be looking for more of his stuff, definitely.

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Review: The Black Abbot

The Black Abbot by Edgar Wallace
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Not a typical Edgar Wallace novel, but I'm starting to think there are no typical Edgar Wallace novels. He was the Melissa McShane of his day: prolific, competent, didn't just work to the same formula all the time, but wrote widely varied books within a broad genre category, most of them good.

This one has just enough of a mystery to it that I've tagged it as "classic-mystery," but, despite the country-house setting, it isn't one of those where the wealthy man is murdered in his locked library. There's a mysterious figure, believed by some to be the ghost of the Black Abbot of the title, who wanders the grounds at intervals; a legendary treasure supposedly buried by an Elizabethan ancestor, which every generation since has put in huge effort searching for; an eccentric, scholarly earl; his practical, athletic younger brother, who runs the estate; their neighbours, a lawyer with a gambling problem who has embezzled extensively to support his habit and is about to be found out, and the lawyer's sister, who is engaged to the earl but in love with the younger brother (who reciprocates); the lawyer's chief clerk, who is too clever by half and also in love with the sister; the earl's former secretary, who tried to get the earl to marry her but was foiled by the younger brother; a footman who is selling information to the clerk; and a Scotland Yard sergeant who looks remarkably like a monkey. (This is purely colour, with no direct impact on events; that's not a criticism, because I believe that there's a place for purely decorative elements in a well-written book.)

It's a promising cast, and it doesn't disappoint. There are plenty of twists and turns, lots of peril and suspense, and it's all well told, with the couple of coincidences playing not too much of a pivotal role in the plot. The sequences in the underground ruins of the monastery have a "perilous dungeons" feel. The financial back-and-forth is easy enough to understand while still being full of reverses and shocks. The romance aspect is, for Wallace and for his time, not badly handled. All of the characters have a bit more to them than their archetype and their plot role, and nobody is unmixedly a villain without any redeeming qualities. As Wallace books go, it's a strong one, and gets a recommendation from me.

The Project Gutenberg editor has put in some work to get rid of a number of typos in the original, which I appreciate.

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Review: A Silent Witness

A Silent Witness by R. Austin Freeman
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Not a strong entry in the Thorndyke series for me, and I'm thinking I might stop seeking these out. Freeman is recycling a lot of his material, and relying on multiple unlikely coincidences to hold his plots together, and what's more, I figured out most of the mystery well before Thorndyke started into his usual detailed recap.

The setup is one we've seen multiple times before in the series. Young, newly-qualified doctor, who has been taught by Thorndyke, is (without much enjoyment or enthusiasm) doing an easy locum job, stumbles across a couple of odd happenings that are, by complete coincidence, connected, and also meets a nice young woman who becomes the love interest (but doesn't ever get much of a personality or play any real role in the plot to speak of). Freeman even reuses another plot device from an earlier book: (view spoiler)[the property that backs onto another one, indicating, when Thorndyke looks at a map that we, the readers, are not privy to, that particular people are likely connected to the crime. (hide spoiler)]

This young man, the narrator, bumps into several people who are important to the plot in a place where he is only present by complete accident. He's too stupid to live, and keeps failing to take elementary precautions, even though he's only escaped being murdered by the villain by several strokes of luck.

The villain's plot is moderately clever, but overly elaborate, and is detected because of his inept attempts to cover up what doesn't actually need covering up in the first place. The narrator and Thorndyke's assistant profess complete bafflement, long after it was obvious to me how various identities fitted together and what the crime had been.

On balance, not a recommendation, and something of a disappointment.

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Review: The Crystal Key: The Dream Rider Saga, #2

The Crystal Key: The Dream Rider Saga, #2 by Douglas Smith
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Contemporary cosmic fantasy is not my usual fare. I tend more to cozy and secondary-world at the moment. But I had read, and enjoyed, the first in this series, so when it popped up on BookBub I grabbed it. I was not disappointed.

It's that rare thing, a supers novel (more or less) that's had good and thorough editing, though there are a few basic errors here and there that the editor presumably missed. (Even very good editors do miss a small percentage of errors.)

It's also a good story. Everyone gets to step up, even a couple of minor characters, and the main characters grow and develop. Even though their powers are considerable by the end, they never make the challenges feel trivial or take away the tension and danger and the need to make smart choices. They're characters I could feel for and cheer for, despite their flaws.

The relationship dynamics between the characters, and their personal issues, are also well developed and help to drive the plot, even though the main plot driver is the machinations of external parties. There's a twist that I absolutely did not see coming, too, which still made sense even though it recontextualized a lot of what had gone before.

It's a strong piece of work, and while it doesn't have the extra depth of reflection that would propel it into the Gold tier of my annual recommendation list, it's firmly at the top of Silver: soundly constructed and enjoyable.

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Review: Modern Magic: A contemporary fantasy novel

Modern Magic: A contemporary fantasy novel by Beth Williams
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The shadow of the late lamented Sir Terry Pratchett looms over every humourous fantasy novel, and especially every British humourous fantasy novel; comparisons are inevitable. This one doesn't set out to imitate him too closely, though the influence is there, mainly in the more-than-Dickensian names, but also in the general feel of the world: diverse people doing their best to get along, noblebright main characters, a lot of imperfections in how things work day-to-day, and yet somehow it all manages to operate.

In a Terry Pratchett book, or even a Tom Holt book, to which this also bears some similarity because of the corporate bureaucracy, the nerdy auditor, Hop, would probably have been the main character or at least the love interest, and Ivy, the actual main character, would have been less capable and less attractive, but still have triumphed through sheer perseverance and good intent. (She does have perseverance and good intent, though.)

The identity of the people behind all the trouble sticks out half a mile, and no tropes were averted or even given a twist in that part of the storytelling.

It is, though, a generous and kind-hearted story, in which more-or-less ordinary, imperfect people trapped in a less-than-ideal system dare to challenge it and overcome at least the worst consequences of the fact that others are abusing it from selfish motives, and those people in turn get some comeuppance. I found it amusing rather than hilarious, but it was consistently amusing, and didn't try too hard for laughs (which usually fails). It was decently edited, too, with a few minor glitches, mainly vocabulary or simple typos.

It's a recommendation from me, and I'll be looking for more from this author.

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Review: The Book of Lost Hours

The Book of Lost Hours by Hayley Gelfuso
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The problem with this one for me is that I like my speculative fiction to give me a thoroughly-worked-out, consistent premise and have the plot arise from it, and this is the other way around. It has the feel of a book where the author knew where they wanted the plot to go, and the worldbuilding had to fit around that, even if it made no sense whatsoever.

The premise here is that there's a "time dimension" which is accessible in various ways - most commonly (in the 20th century, at least) by magical watches - where human memory is stored like a library. One of the main characters is Lisavet Levy, who, at the age of 11, is shoved into this dimension by her father - one of the few people who knows how to make the watches - for safety on what turns out to be Kristallnacht, while he goes off to get her brother so they can all escape to the US through the time dimension.

Her father never returns, and Lisavet grows up in the time dimension and learns from the ghostlike people there - the ones who haven't yet been put into books - and from her own experimentation how to visit the memories, where she learns languages and other useful skills. After a while, she's able to take objects from the memories for her own use, and they remain real when she brings them out, except they don't remain real to other people, except when they do.

Yes, there are other people who can enter the time dimension, known as "timekeepers," which is ironic because most of them are there to destroy books - which contain people's memories - thus destroying the memory other people have of the person, and their impact on history. Or something. It's not particularly clear or consistent, and it becomes obvious that the so-called "memories" are not just the memories individuals have (or had); Lisavet goes into one of her father's "memories," and it's not the way he always told the story, suggesting that the "memories" are in fact objective records of events, and that when someone messes with the "memories," they are changing history. Or are they just changing the perception people have of it? No; Lisavet leaves something in a "memory" which is then there in the real world, so these aren't actually memories at all. It's time travel. Which raises the question: Why are they associated with a specific person, when you can go into a room that the person whose "memory" it supposedly is hasn't been into and can't see into? Or go into their room, and another room in the same building that they probably haven't visited, while they're unconscious?

This is another part of what I mean by the plot driving the worldbuilding, even when it makes no sense: Lisavet doesn't have to eat and drink in the time dimension, presumably because if she did, the author would have to explain where the food and drink came from. (Why not the "memories," since she can take things from them? Yes, it takes her a while to gain that skill, but she could gain it sooner.) But she has to grow and age, because she starts out 11 years old, and she has to be older for key parts of the plot to happen, so her body gets bigger despite taking no nourishment. She doesn't excrete or sleep in the time dimension either. What's more, (view spoiler)[she doesn't menstruate - she says this specifically - and yet she gets pregnant, to an American man who comes into the time dimension on behalf of the CIA. While they are making love for the first time, the memory they are in "comes to an end" (whatever that means; isn't memory continuous while awake?), and she shifts them seamlessly into another one without using a book, but not long after this scene she's said to develop the ability to go into memories without using a book, and to keep this from her lover so that he won't freak out. (hide spoiler)]

Interwoven with Lisavet's story - going back and forth in time, as is appropriate for what is, let's be honest, a time travel novel - are several other characters: Amelia, a sullen teenager; her Uncle Ernest, a timekeeper; Moira, Ernest's boss in the secret agency that works with the time dimension from the US end; and Jack, head of the CIA, who's Moira's boss, and thoroughly despicable in every possible way. All of these people have complicated interrelationships which evolve or are revealed throughout the book.

I could probably have forgiven the... let's say rather improvised worldbuilding if the emotional beats had been sound, if I'd been moved and surprised and excited. But (and this may just be me) I wasn't. The twists didn't surprise me; one I saw coming from a little way off, and while I didn't see the other big one coming, when it arrived I thought it was a conventional choice. Big spoilers here: (view spoiler)[Lisavet and Moira are the same person, but they come across quite differently from each other. One is vulnerable, gentle, and innocent; the other is hard and dangerous and ends up killing two men who she knows well with no hesitation. Yes, there was a traumatic transition from one identity to the other, and a powerful motivation for the killing, but I still didn't completely buy it. Also, the scene where she picks the name "Moira". Moira is a very Irish name, and goes extremely well with "Donnelley", her assigned surname, but her explanation for choosing it - that it was her (Swiss) mother's name - struck me as implausible. As did the idea of a German Jewish woman who has carefully avoided finding out anything about the world since she was aged 11 convincingly portraying an American of Irish Catholic background who has grown up in that world. It feels to me - and I'm very likely wrong - that the decision that Moira was actually Lisavet came relatively late in the development of the book, when Moira's quite different personality was already established, and, once again, the backstory was forced in order to fit. Which, for me, it didn't. (hide spoiler)]

It is, with the occasional glitch, at least well edited. But the worldbuilding made no sense to me, and I never really came to care about the characters, to the point that I stopped reading at 75%, so it only gets three stars and no recommendation from me. Once again, claims in the blurb that something is for fans of something else prove hollow; I thought the The Ministry of Time was amazing, but this is no Ministry of Time.

I received a review copy via Netgalley.

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Review: The Duke in the Suburbs

The Duke in the Suburbs by Edgar Wallace
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Not a typical Edgar Wallace. He mostly wrote mysteries and thrillers, and while there are some moments of action, this is mostly a comedy. For me, quite a successful comedy, too.

For reasons that are never explained, presumably because it makes no sense at all, the Duc de Montvilliers has decided to rent a suburban villa in a quiet middle-class neighbourhood in London. He's not an English duke, but a (presumably purely nominal) French duke, descendant of refugees from the Terror, born and raised in England. He has plenty of money, because he's been to the US and struck silver, along with his American friend Hank, who's also living with him in the suburban house (no, not like that, this is 1909). While in America, he lived a rough-and-tumble life and was the cause of a ruffian being jailed, and this ruffian, having by some pull and corruption got out of jail, is now trying to hunt him down.

Meanwhile, by coincidence, the uncle of his neighbour (a young woman who he falls in love with and proposes to almost immediately on meeting her), a schemer named Sir Harry Tanneur, is trying, by completely dodgy means, to wrest the silver mine from him in a US court. Sir Harry's lawyer there cunningly fulfils the letter of the law by advertising the action in three small local newspapers, but then has an agent buy up the entire run of all three papers so the duke has no chance of finding out in practice, since if he defends the claim he will definitely win. However, the lawyer sends the clippings to Sir Harry, and by a series of highly unlikely coincidences one of them ends up being read out at a parish concert, alerting the duke, who rushes to the US and crushes the fraudulent claim.

This annoys Sir Harry significantly. His family were actually tanners, surnamed Tanner, but when they made a lot of money in the 19th century changed it to Tanneur, presumably to rhyme with "poseur," which is what Sir Harry is. He's busily engaged in producing false documentation of ancient and exalted genealogy. He deeply resents the duke legally asserting his right to his own property and scotching Sir Harry's attempt to pinch it, and considers it cause for a vendetta.

The two men then buy newspapers in order to campaign against one another, and the suburbanites, who are amusingly characterized, divide into factions. The characters are wonderful in general: the urbane duke, a mixture of Eton old boy and Wild West adventurer; his phlegmatic buddy Hank, who shows a lot more sophistication than the usual stock American character; the permanently broke but always genial Lord Tupping, known to one and all as "Tuppy"; the self-deceiving and bitter Sir Harry; the absurd would-be detective. It's unfortunate, though, that the love interest doesn't have a lot of personality, which is a flaw in an otherwise strong and amusing book.

I think this must have been one of the books Wallace dictated, and whoever transcribed and/or edited it was weak on punctuation. The comma usage is erratic and frequently incorrect, apostrophes are missing, closing quotation marks get missed (or put where they don't belong), and the duke's American nickname is spelled "Dukey" or "Jukey" seemingly at random. It's the kind of book that makes me want to produce my own edition, so that it can shine as it deserves.

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