The internet is not to
be trusted. Not just because it is a Cold-War invention designed to
decentralise information, a bit like a guerrilla cell, but because anyone can
‘publish’ anything, like a top five list of their favourite sandwich toppings
(cheese (which is assumed as a fundamental ingredient in all food), egg, avo,
cucumber and mayo, and chocolate spread) and Google might proclaim them expert in
the culinary arts. (This blog does not appear on any search engine lists FYI.
Perhaps Google doesn’t like my choice of sandwiches. Perhaps because you should
visit my blog more often. #justsaying)
Anyway, when I wanted
a light read, and had already read five Terry Pratchett’s in a (chronological)
row, I typed in ‘top 10 supernatural apocalyptic horror’ to a search engine that has enough publicity already. Some of the lists were weighted by coming-of-age
stories that encourage all sorts of abuse, and fantasies of death – you know
what I am talking about. Most of the others I had read. I had to be selective
and so I jotted down only the titles of books that appeared in the same lists
as the The Road; while lists that
included Stranger in a Strange Land and excluded Margaret Atwood were dismissed
with a click.
One title I had never
heard of reappeared, making it a hit by Google standards. Dead Beat by Jim Butcher, part of the Dresden Files. This title is
number 7 in the series (I will get to my opinion of series in general, if not
now, then in a post built entirely for it). A site devoted to science fiction (obviously
this site will have the answers I am looking for, and none of them are
sandwiches) called this particular book ‘a kitchen sink book; Butcher manages
to cram in werewolves, wizards, vampires, fairies, demons and zombies, without
making it feel crowded’. She forgot the T-Rex.
I can hear you,
shifting the cursor indecisively toward the cross at the top of the screen.
That would have been my reaction. Until the improbable happened: the security
post to my suspension of disbelief malfunctioned. Yep, I read a story about the
fleshy ghost of a T-Rex ridden by a wizard without a pointy hat and with a
staff, and I believed it (as in I believed this could happen in that fantasy
Earth, not now, here, in front of me. Just to clarify). That dinosaur was maybe
the coolest character in any story I have recently read, except for Commander Vimes
of the Nightswatch.
Again, hear me out.
Google Analytics also records how long you spend reading my blog, and have I
mentioned I am broke-ass writer, whose career may begin or end with your
reading? I finished reading Dead Beat
in a couple of hours, including some moonlit hours, and then decided to read
the series in order. (I am on Book 3.) Because it was an erudite essay on human
nature? Because it made me examine my sacred cows (hock included. I love that
word. Hock)? Because it used the supernatural to comment on the ordinary?
Kinda, kinda and kinda.
This is not a great
book, but it is a very good book. So are books 1 and 2. And not because in
number 4 a T-Rex that cuts a swathe of carnage through San Francisco, but
because Book 2 includes four different types of werewolf (‘werewolf’ being an
ambiguous term, as Mr Butcher shows us), also cutting a swathe of carnage. The
most terrifying and rabid of the four is the loup-garou, a man whose family was
cursed to turn on full moon. Sounds ordinary but no. This creature is, again,
terrifying. It is huge and filled with a blood lust that shreds the man’s
conscience when he wakes up.
You may have notice
there are no Native Americans pacing in denim shorts. Jim Butcher obviously
does a wealth of research, drawing deeply on various myths before painting them
with his imagination. When he describes a T-Rex romping down a boulevard, he
has contemplated the dimensions of beast and environment, and how one would go
about riding it (see, a T-Rex leans forward when moving and leans back but not
entirely vertical when standing, so he places the wizard near the neck of the
creature, which is also far from the teeth).
The book earns its
‘very’ because it is two tsp detective novel to one tsp supernatural thriller,
just without the make-up plastered, body-hugging dress wearing, purring femme
fatale. In fact his range of female characters is more balanced than is usual
in fantasy literature, which is not to say that he and his wizard don’t like a
beautiful woman, because they do. They definitely do. The books are formulaic
but in the way that Stephen King’s writing is good. It works. Because they are
not predictable. Which seems obvious when the cast includes four type of
werewolf, an energy vampire and a dinosaur. But it isn’t. Trust me, I’m an
editor.
Harry Dresden is our private
investigator and wizard, like in the pointy hat sense but without the pointy
hat. (He does however possess a staff covered in runes, a talking skull and a
cat.) He investigates the paranormal; he has a legitimate ad in the yellow
pages that says ‘wizard’ although most people think he is a charlatan –
including to some extent himself. He is employed by a branch of the police
department, which thinks he is a charlatan too as well as a scape goat.
Can you focus, please?
In Book 7 (I can hear you bleating about reading the books in order, but then
please explain Star Wars), three sets
of warlocks (or something) want to call on the brutish but sinister Elfking to
chomp his way through the human race, making them kings and queens (or something).
Of course, this can only happen at a specific time and place, because otherwise
it would be difficult to get everyone together and string a plot across between
them. Have I mentioned the zombies yet?
If you have reached this
point and are thinking, ‘I don’t like science fiction’, I do not know why you
are still reading. Either peg your disbelief over a clothesline or go away. You
are breaking my train of thought.
Dresden is a more
likeable Sherlock Holmes, with the wit of the Holmes (Robert Downey Jnr (who,
FYI, I disliked in that role very much)) of the modern retellings. The wizard surprises
even himself when he says something that isn’t sarcastic – some comments making
me laugh loudly enough to frighten myself, the cats and my bunny. Like any good
likeable hero, he tends to trip face-down into dangerous situations, stopping
mid-step to (sometimes accidentally) smite someone.
But essentially our
guy is ordinary. Apart from his magical powers – that make electrical items of
any sort explode – a staff and a cat. But otherwise ordinary – except for the
regular appearance of demons, fairies, vampires and zombies. Dresden is the
good guy that we can all relate to. The guy trying to make a difference. Trying
to live his life, without being impaled, scalped or set on fire over a
misunderstanding.
According to the head
honchos of wizards and a chorus of supernatural beings, Dresden’s fatal flaw is
his attachment to humanity. An attachment to people being and (this part’s
important) staying alive. An attachment so strong he is always shielding people
from supernatural crazies. He is always trying to keep carnage down a minimum,
but that means the rules have to bend to his will. Terrible, just terrible,
right? No. His real flaw is giving other people benefit of the doubt that he
often doesn’t give himself. He is strong, in most ways except physically, but
not impervious to pain (Book 2 was a close one).
Another site devoted
to the fans of science fiction says, ‘If it ain't broke, don't fix it, and
Butcher has had half a dozen books to figure out his formula is working for
him. Yet he's deft enough to avoid repeating himself. He allows each volume to add
a little something to the mythology that's been built up.’ You needn’t have
read my waffle because this sums all My Point in a paragraph. Still, read it
anyway.
In conclusion, this is
a list of and recipes to make myfavourite sandwiches. *Psych* for those
who skipped to the end – I even heaped on a trite introductory phrase for you.
Do you still need a reason to read The
Dresden Files? Here’s one for dorks like me: the books are also available
as comics and audio books read by – wait for it – James Marsters aka Spike of
Buffy and Spike. Indeed, fellow dorks. Indeed.
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