Review: Timebound by Rysa Walker

(This novel was purchased through Amazon's new Kindle First feature, which allows for editor's picks of upcoming ebooks to be purchased prior to their release date. Timebound will be available on January 1st.)

So, I mentioned recently that I went on a bit of a book-buying binge a couple of weeks ago, as a means of distracting myself from Finals preparation. Now that I've gotten over those woes and am on Winter Break, I can finally read those books (and no worries about my classes... I 4.0'd English and got a 3.8 in Fairy Tales)! I was most excited about Timebound, by Rysa Walker, so I decided to give that one a go first, out of the many books I have on my Winter TBR list, because, honestly, with 3 weeks off of school, a lack of time was no longer a problem for me.

Timebound (first in the "Chronos Files" series) details the story of sixteen-year-old Katie Pierce-Keller, a normal girl with divorced parents, who finds out, one day, that she's never existed. Well, not in this timeline, anyways. But if that's true, then it means everything her grandmother has told her, about the organization CHRONOS and the genetically-determined ability to travel through time, is true. Suddenly, Katie has to cope with a present where her best friend is part of a cult, her mother was never born, and her new boyfriend is the guy who took her place when she disappeared. But when it comes down to it, can just a normal teenage girl make the difficult decision, of which time stream is correct... and which one is right?

I initially approached this novel with no small amount of trepidation, due to the typical tricky nature of building a cohesive and fully-integrated world oriented around the concept of time travel. There's a lot of rules to explain, fundamental issues to address (um, why are things randomly disappearing?), and we can't forget the tweaks to the time-old idea that makes the concept individual... and it's difficult to make such a popular plot device your own.

Ultimately, all of my questions about how, exactly, this was going to work were answered; however, in citing the age-old adage of "actions speak louder than words," I wish there had been a little more demonstration than info-dumping. The benefit of having a clueless protagonist who is learning information at the same rate as the reader is that there's the opportunity to explain... I just wish it had been done in a less drawn-out and monologue-like fashion.

To be real, I almost DNF'd at around 25% of the way through the novel. I just found the pacing uneven, the constant descriptions to be pretty droll, and the relationships too unrealistic (not because of the time-travel thing, but because of the whole insta-love thing). The novel - though containing a lot of interesting historical factoids - was unfortunately written in a more basic style as well. Probably a good choice, due to the already confusing nature of what is being discussed, but boring. And honestly, for a novel that builds up to the 1893 Chicago Worlds Fair, they sure took their sweet time in getting there.

However, once they did, things finally got interesting. Really interesting, actually, and really quickly. The plot - finally straightened out and fully operational after all of that exhausting and extensive back story - takes off with a bang, and the stakes are made clear. The endless pages dedicated to the construction of, well, everything, form a complexity of interwoven webs in the time stream where, all of a sudden, we jet directly to the action, and it's nothing but a race to the finish line.

The book was hard to get through in a lot of places, but in the end, I really enjoyed it. Walker tackled a subject that's both been overplayed as well as over-hyped and wrote a book that utilizes the topic of time-travel in a totally new and engaging way. The book leaves off at a pretty interesting moment, and it's primed and ready for the next book in the series to completely blow us away, like the second half of this first book did. Walker took her time building the car... now let's just see how fast it can drive.

For fans of historical and science fiction for the YA set, as well as evil cult-ish religions manipulated for secret purposes and lots of Princess Bride references, I would recommend Timebound, if just for the adventure that's clearly in store with the next novel in the series.

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night: A Celebration of Mystery Writers in Washington State

I truly believe that it should be a well known fact, that just like our apples, Washington makes great mystery writers, better than anywhere else. 

Let me explain: our state already has our specific library shelf's full of truly great authors. Sherman Alexie, champion of Native American youthful voice, through novels like The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven and The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian, is one of my personal favorites, and currently lives in Seattle. Others, like Frank Herbert, author of (in my personal opinion) the greatest science fiction epic of all time, Dune, hails from my own home city of Tacoma. We already know that some truly great authors are grown right here, in the best part of the PNW.

However, there's a distinct subset within that canon that stands out to me, in the mystery section of the library. Therefore, in an attempt to convince you, here are some of my favorite masters of intrigue, straight from our gorgeously green state!

TROUBLE IN TACOMA

For starters, let's take it back to T-Town with Erik Hanberg: City of Tacoma Parks Commissioner by day, author of the "Arthur Beautyman" series by night. His novels have followed the titular computer-hacker-slash-detective through three novels already, with The Saints Go Dying released in 2010, The Marinara Murders in 2011, and The Con Before Christmas in 2012; all self-published, and all marked with quick pace, realistic dialogue, character interest, and unpredictable plot turns (check out my review of The Marinara Murders back in January 2012!).

Erik gets bonus points for his other projects, too, including the books The Little Book of Gold and The Little Book of Likes, nonfiction guides involving fundraising and social media (respectively) for small, nonprofit organizations, as well as his newest novel, The Lead Cloak, a science fiction adventure that debuts on October 15th (which is my birthday, in case anyone's forgotten).

**Also, Tacoma's elected officials get a second honorable mention of sorts with Mark Lindquist, City of Tacoma Prosecutor and part-time author, whose book The King of Methlehem (published by Simon and Schuster in 2007) is quite thrilling, but doesn't necessarily qualify as a straight-shot mystery to me. Still, he's got some serious resume: Sad Movies (1987, Atlantic Monthly Press), Carnival Desires (1990, Atlantic Monthly Press), and Never Mind Nirvana (2001, Random House) all did pretty well for themselves.

RAINY CITY SAVIOR

Yet another Tacoma-born author, Earl Emerson, chose to focus his time, instead, on Seattle, with the Thomas Black mystery series. The Rainy City, the first of the series, was published in 1985, while the latest - the thirteenth in the series, Monica's Sister - was published just this past summer. His work features actual Pacific Northwest settings in all their gritty glamour, described on point, and main character - in the first few novels, at the very least - even lives in the University District! Dark and suspenseful, these mysteries are tensely realistic, and are notable for their dedication to the description of their setting.

Mr. Emerson also writes the "Mack Fontana"series, as well as the "Fire Thrillers" series, taken from his time spent as a lieutenant with the Seattle Fire Department.

ALPINE AUTHORESS

Mary Daheim, a Seattle-based mystery author, actually got her start in bodice-ripping historical romances. However, after a string of them proved unfulfilling to her writing talent, she started working in her favorite genre, and it's a good thing she did: her very first mystery novel - Just Desserts, from the "Bed and Breakfast series," starring Judith McMonigle - was nominated for an Agatha award! The series has continued onwards with 28 novels in total.

However, those aren't her only claim to mystery fame. Her "Alpine" series - starting with The Alpine Advocate in 1992, starring Emma Lord - has seen a total of 24 novels, set in the small town of Alpine, WA. Here's the catch: as of the time of her writing, the real Alpine no longer existed. She resurrected the town in her novels, and 2008, the old town itself was rediscovered... by a group who called themselves "the Alpine Advocates"! Talk about author loyalty.

She's also a University of Washington alumna, and was one of the first female editors of The Daily (the UW campus daily paper), which makes her one of the coolest people in the entire world, essentially. She was inducted into the UW Department of Communications Alumni Hall of Fame in 2008. Sounds like its time for a campus scavenger hunt, to me...

MAKE NO BONES ABOUT IT

Finally, we'll finish off the list with one of my absolute favorites: Aaron Elkins, author of one of my favorite mystery series in the whole world, starring Gideon Oliver, the Skeleton Detective, a forensic anthropologist from Washington. Technically, Elkins himself ISN'T from our lovely state, but he lives here now, in Sequim, and that's a good enough reason for me to take a moment to talk about a super awesome author. 

So, how's this for story time: my dad actually was the first in my family to love this series, to the point where out of the thirteen or so copies we own, at least six of them are signed (if I'm remembering correctly, the legend goes that my dad sheepishly approached Elkins at a writer's conference or something or other with a couple of copies expressly purposed for the occasion, and Elkins patiently signed all of them for him). My dad passed on the copies - and the obsession - to me, and now I've got Fellowship of Fear - the first of them, from 1982- sitting on my desk right now, ready for a reread. Don't believe me?

"To Andrew - Here's to a skeleton in every closet. Aaron Elkins" 

Elkins has now retired this hero with the 17th novel in the series, Dying on the Vine, released in 2012. However, that doesn't mean he's done writing: he has also produced the "Chris Nordgren" novels, as well as the "Lee Ofsted" series, and is currently working on the "Alix London" series, as well, which he writes with his wife, Charlotte. He has also produced three stand alone novels, called Loot, Turncoat, and The Worst Thing.

***

So this October, if you're looking for some murder and mayhem to cozy up to the fire with on a windy day, might I recommend some homemade mysteries, fresh from your own beautiful backyard of Washington state?

The Novel and the Movie: The Maltese Falcon

In the ever-involved interest of trying new things, I thought maybe the time had come for a direct and objective contrast to the sometimes over-trusted phrase, "The book is always better than the movie." Sometimes, maybe the movie is just better than the book? In this new series, I'll experience a story, in the forms of both the original printed novel, and the subsequent movie adaptation, and make my own judgement as to which was better, going into detail on the why one worked or didn't work, in an effort to give each a fair shot in telling their tale.

This series was inspired by the latest source of inspiration for my College Fashion "Looks from Books" series: The Maltese Falcon, by Dashiell Hammett. Written in 1930, and adapted three times by 1941, this book has some serious street cred in both the book and movie industries, and adapting its key thematic elements for college students to wear was some significantly hard work, without weighing in the benefit of suspense and visual inspiration that the 1941 adaptation - starring the likes of Humphrey Bogart and Mary Astor - provided so bountifully. (Click for the link to my article here.)

THE NOVEL:

A densely-packed and quick-paced detective story, full of the genre's typical ingredients for intrigue: a gorgeous mystery lady, telling lies and covering up schemes, but all with a schoolgirl smile that you just can't help believing; a strange mystery foreigner, seeking a  strange mystery artifact, with a quick hand for a gun and an eye for his gunmen; a fat mystery collector also seeking said strange mysterious artifact; and at the center of it all, Sam Spade, prolific private detective.

Like solving a puzzle from the center outwards, Spade pieces together a mystery involving legendary lost treasure by double-thinking his opponents and smacking people around like speed bags. Ruthless but never reckless, Sam always gets his man... especially when the chase ends up being the end of his partner.

A fully-formed and hole-less mystery (rare, honestly), whose distinct emphasis on visual focus and deliberately innovative forms of description paint a landscape of crime and dark doorways with questionable intents lying on either side. Suspenseful, solid, sure to suck you in completely, Dashiell Hammett launches a legacy in an often "cheap" genre.

THE MOVIE: 
Humphrey Bogart smolders and Mary Astor simpers through this film classic, as the two leads, Sam Spade and Brigid O'Shaughnessy, respectively.

Bogart tackles the iconic role with tenacity and focus, and physically represents the character description of Sam Spade to perfection; however, sometimes he comes of as manic and over-bearing where the strength of the character should have lied in solid stoicism and composed calm. Astor makes for a convincing damsel-in-distress, but  takes some of the edge out of the "femme fatale," by whimpering and waffling between the doe-eyed waif and the wanton honeypot in an exaggerated attempt to come off as manipulative. Her true power lies in her otherworldly ability to reflect emotions through her facial expressions, and I feel like we could have gotten through the movie solely based on her numerous soft-focused close-ups.

Both characters seem mistreated by the script, which alters key scenes in the hopes of skewing power and responsibility more in the favor of the male lead (common practice for a still man-centric media back in the '40s). The scandalous nature of the plot is continually dulled by the deliberate soothing of the story line to comply with the cultural status quo back in 1941, muzzling some of the more notable moments within the tale, and thus taking away some of the edge so apparent in the novel.

The movie is considered highly by virtually everyone, and was nominated for three Oscars, including Best Picture. It was inducted into the National Film Registry in 1989.

THE VERDICT: 

Well, so much for striking off this series by depicting a balance, but in my opinion, the book overwhelmingly overrides the movie: the detective and mystery genres themselves exist to inspire suspense, and in relation, the novel allows for a lot more cool-headed calculation than the noisy and over-acted film.

However, that being said, the adherence to the plot of the novel in itself is wholly remarkable - despite its dallying deviations - because you'd never see something that stuck so close nowadays. The disappearance of the subtleties and nuance of the novel is what I mourn in the film category, but even so, it's a solid work of cinema, and definitely worth an hour and forty minutes of your time.

Dead Tired

Only a few days back to school, and I already feel like spending most of the day in bed.

It's not the classes, those are amazing. They're all in a row, straight off, starting at 9:30 am, and ending shortly after lunch, so I don't have any giant gaping holes in my schedule like I did last quarter, and besides, check out what classes I'm taking: Water and Society, English 297 AND 301 (pre-reqs for the major!), and Dinosaurs. Yeah, that's right, Dinosaurs. Nothing, in terms of schoolwork, is getting me down, as the readings are fabulous, the topics are engaging, and I have friends - or am already making friends - in all of my classes. There's no problem with school itself.

I think it's partially to do with the fact that I really wore myself out over break. Not everyone considers tackling an almost 1,000 page Russian drama for Christmas, and it was a real journey, not only to read the whole novel, but also adapt it for College Fashion (for my first-ever post, no less), as well as review it for this blog. While I did find it all a very rewarding experience, I don't think I'll be attempting that kind of a marathon again any time soon.

Instead, I chose to retreat to the comfort zone, and bury myself in my favorite genre - also rife with those 6 ft. under - with a good cup of tea. Several good cups of tea later, I retreated from the novel mentally replenished, and ready to get back to work.

The novel was this: Why Didn't They Ask Evans?, one of the best - in my opinion - of Agatha Christie's canon, and one not starring either of her most famous mystery-solvers, Poirot or Marple, either. Instead, the novel focuses on young Bobby Jones, the son of a vicar, and his childhood friend, Lady Frances Derwent, and their attempts to expose a devious drug ring and unmask a murderer by following the trail of corpses left behind, all without becoming corpses themselves.

In many ways, it was simply a typical, yet no less thrilling, Agatha Christie mystery, involving many familiar thematic elements of the mystery genre at that time period, including shadowy figures, sinister doctors, eerie mist, daring escapes, close shots, and the femme fatale. However, as this was one of Christie's first mysteries published after her second marriage, this time to archaeologist Max Mallowan, the witty banter and jokes prevalent throughout the book also bespeak a certain  lightheartedness perhaps not present in her later books. And say whatever you want about the caliber and quality of the series novel, the mystery genre, or this masterful combination of the two, but I believe that this is one of the most fun Agatha Christie's career.

Anyways, a nice, quick read, leaving me feeling refreshed and ready, to face the onslaught of reading coming at me from two different English classes. :) I'm so excited!

Shadows and Rain

As I am currently living in Seattle, you cannot imagine my immense gratitude and relief when it finally started to rain two days ago.

The city has been clouded over with the distinct lack of clouds since school has started. The unnatural sunshine and prolonged summer temperatures have been keeping me awake at night in an unseasonably warm sweat. Each time I dropped another ice cube in my tea, another little part of my soul flaked off, like the dry skin that came with the unwelcome heat, the heat that kept me in tee shirts, instead of in my prized, oft-worn sweaters. The brightness blinded me to all books - school-related or otherwise - and I was suspended in time, just like my favorite season, who was still anxiously waiting for its leaves to change, and its carved pumpkins to appear on doorsteps. Now that the weather has finally caught up with the calendar, I am released from the stupor of the clashing seasons, and I can actually focus.

To a point. It may be argued that what emerged from the new-found morning fog was a misdirected focus; instead of an actual attentiveness to the tasks at hand (namely, managing to pay attention to Appreciation of Architecture lectures...), instead of applying myself to the textbook and keyboard, as I should have... I was desperate for more gloom. Suffering under this odd ailment - desiring the murky and cold, and despairing of all that was clear and warm - I turned to the book that mentioned both darkness and seasonal weather changes in its title (it's allure only magnified by the fact that Stephen King's quote was on the cover): The Shadow of the Wind: A Novel, by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.

Largely taking place in the heavily political post-war decade of 1945 to 1955 in Barcelona, Spain, the story follows the trial and travails of the love life of young Daniel Sempere, a teen trying to avoid the pitfalls of friendships and relationships, while keeping hidden the secret he has sworn to protect: a mysterious book, the Shadow of the Wind, of which only one manuscript exists. The rest - as well as the rest of the collective works of it's secretive author, Julian Carax - have been meticulously burned, by a man scarred by fire, operating under the name of one of Carax's villians, representative of the devil. What follows is a tangled web of many characters, their lies, and the timelines in which they operate, and the great question, of whether they can unravel the mystery before their time runs out.

I'm not entirely familiar with any European literature - especially recent literature - that doesn't come from England. I'm used to the Gothic, and the Romantic, and everything that has to do with the prude and privileged ladies of Austen and the Brontes. I was unprepared for this book - which was a bestseller in Spain and France, among other places, before being translated into English - and its... well... differing sensibilities. What I'm talking about are lines like these:

"You're a dish fit for a pope, Rocito. This egregious ass of yours is the Revelation According to Botticelli." 

You see what I mean? Not to say that this line didn't leave me laughing uproariously... it's just that the book displays an abundance of that sort of mindset. And if anyone has heard me complain about the Game of Thrones before, it's like this: I just have a minor problem with major intrigue being upstaged by the inability to keep certain things to yourself. But that's just my point of view.

The rest was great, though. Instead of existing on some limited scope and scale, it existed - to me - in some supernatural soap opera, populated with nefarious characters of dubious origins, liars and double crossers, those who looked like angels and those who acted like angels, those whose religious piety concealed a broken soul. The grandiose nature of the entire novel, the infinite supply of source material, was interesting, as most of what I've been reading recently seems kind of limiting in comparison. The strange, almost postmodernist view of the politics at the time, especially in reference to the corruption in government, which is a hefty topic in itself, took a backseat, when it came to the paranormal and the mystical. The result was a hodgepodge of the religious and the secular, the magical and the evil and the real. This novel contained a lot of varying elements, all moving and acting of their own accord, with their own connotations and purpose.

The problem is that the result of that grew a little too hectic. Towards the ending, I got the vague impression of sending sand through a sieve - throwing a million little particles your way a mile a minute - in the hopes that something is going to fill all the holes. Simply by reading it, I was finding suspense not only in the story itself, but as an outsider thinking, "come on, it's been a great one so far, don't let it all fly out of hand now...don't stuff the ending so full of surprises you'll blow your own story to bits." Thankfully, the acceleration finally stopped, and the story came together at the end. Unfortunately, in a double blow to my heart, it was a predictable outcome. So I had endured such stress at the hands of frenetic plot movement, then frustration through the stagnation as the exact same ending I had predicted came to fruition?

Believe it or not, the masterful imagery and inventive storytelling made it all worth it, and I'm not joking. Normally I'm a stickler about the "moral values" and "plot consistency and regularity" things, but this one was probably the exception. The length was pretty fantastic, too, as it was small enough for me to finish within the span of a week, and yet, it was long enough to let me get familiar with the texture of its binding and the font on its pages. A large-portioned meal, but a tasty one. Maybe I'm just feel so much gratitude for the man who mentally sent me to Barcelona for the past week, but it was a nicely worded vacation, and I appreciated the gloom.

Now, back to my rain. :)