The Pillars of the Earth (1989) by Ken Follett

Pillars succeeds mostly on its strong re-creation of the time period. British history is so populated by sheer event that it's almost impossible to pick a single time period in the past thousand years and have it not offer a compelling setting.

Follett is a strong writer of historical fiction. His setting rings true and offers an ample amount of historical education in addition to the page-turning quality of his narrative. Historical fiction has always been partly of an educational nature to me; something akin to a textbook repurposed into a more easily consumable morsel, and Pillars succeeds in this.

The story starts strongly and offers an ample bevy of narrative hooks; Tom Builder's struggle to provide for his family during a time of civil strife is something nearly every adult is able to identify with, and Prior Phillip representing the enlightened clergyman is a nice change from the somewhat more common cliche of the manipulative, greedy character (almost always a Bishop or Pope) we tend to see in depictions of dark age priests in contemporary historical fiction. And intelligent characters are always enjoyable to read, in which we have Jack Jackson to float our leaky, dirty twelfth-century boat.

However not all of the characters succeed. Despite Jack's admirable intelligence and his victimhood to bullying at the hands of his step-brother, I actually found him somewhat more empty than I had wished for. He's easy to root for, but I had trouble identifying with his character. Follett's knowledge of architecture is obvious, but the use of so much jargon was above my understanding at times, and I think Jack's character relies strongly on his infatuation for mathematics, art, and architecture, which was something I was unable to grasp at times.

Stronger offenders, though, were the villains of the story. William Hamleigh was such an obvious target for the reader's hatred, but I found most of his sadism utterly unrelatable, and found his narration rather flimsy and insincere as a result. There's nothing William really wants or is driven by; he seems to exist just to cause suffering for others. I believe there was room for more characterization in his mother, too, who seems the most compelling of the bunch of villains we have, but so little time is spent with her and she remains not much more than an interesting but thin force to the narrative. Ditto to Bishop Waleran, who, with just a bit of foundation in the form of past motivation peppered through the narrative, could have accomplished more than just being the nakedly ambitious clergyman.

Pillars is an enjoyable book, and it offered a nice break to some of the denser, more difficult literature I've been attempting to tackle lately. And it's a really solid example of historical fiction. But it's not one of my favorites as it feels rather thin in certain areas, despite its paciness and its strong narrative hooks.

⭐⭐⭐

The Terror (2007) by Dan Simmons

Simmons' work is such a Frankenstein's monster of different genres and sub-genres, modes, and styles, and he's so deft at blending the disparate appendages that the transitions between each never come close to feeling jarring or contrived.

The Terror is equal parts historical fiction and horror, with a healthy dash of Inuit mythology thrown in for good measure. The framework and foundation of The Terror is of a naval historical fiction surrounding the doomed Franklin Expedition tasked with the discovery of the Northwest passage in the mid-1840s, but I suspect Simmons' true desires were to plumb the various subgenres of horror that he blends within this larger framework. Nearly every popular subgenre of horror is present; there's the much-touted monster aspect of the story, but there also exists elements of pulpier slasher fiction in the later pages. My personal favorite — and perhaps the most disturbing of the lot, because it's true — are the descriptions of men suffering from severe bouts of scurvy. These passages are true body horror. I found myself recoiling is disgust and visceral offense while reading through them, physically cringing all the more because they weren't merely figments of Simmons' healthy (and somewhat disturbed?) imagination but real symptoms suffered by real men. Awful stuff.

Simmons is a master of pacing. At nearly 800 pages, The Terror is not a short book — and it doesn't have a vast, epic scope to help keeps things fresh and shepherd the reader through that pagecount. Simmons instead resorts to regularly changing the third person limited viewpoint characters and jumping back and forth through time. The changes in mode and voice greatly help to keep things from going stale, and the narrative blends smoothly between the different characters. The Terror never falls victim to the slog that drags other works of this nature down. It's masterful work, and its quality is telling in that it kept me burning through pages and pages of relatively minor activity set mostly all within the same ship, frozen in the same ice, over hundreds of pages of narrative.

It helps that his characters are so authentic and that their voices are all so unique. Simmons' agency in crafting the characters out of real, historical men is notable. There's a strong sense of poignancy reading through this story and knowing that the expedition is doomed to fail, because you grow to like some of these characters and to preemptively mourn their inevitable deaths. Bridgens' quiet, wise manner; Irving's youthful, hopeful naivete; Crozier's curmudgeonly manner and focus on duty. I found the main villain of the crew to be extremely compelling, as well, and the subtle way in which his evil is portrayed in the first half of the book leaves the pieces of the puzzle to the reader to put together, and colors the entire middle portion of the book with an air of negative foreshadowing. Voice is a strength, especially in the later chapters when characters' wits and mental stability begin to fail them. Simmons is a master craftsman and I'll remember certain chapters late in this book for the rest of my life due to how unique and affecting they remain to me.

I'm not sure quite what I expected when I picked this up, but it certainly wasn't what I got. I've read Simmons before — I greatly enjoyed Hyperion — and I'm beginning to think of him as one of the best modern writers I've experienced. I used to think of him as a science fiction writer, but the amount of research he's put into crafting The Terror is equal to any great writer of historical fiction I've ever read. But the real strength of this book is how Simmons colors it with his abject weirdness. The soul of horror is growing tension and creating the fear of what's to come, and Simmons is such a freaking oddball that you're never quite sure what he's going to pull out of his bag of tricks next.

In this way Simmons reminds of Stephen King. Except without the cocaine. And, you know... Actually good.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Shogun (1975) by James Clavell

Why the hell am I so enthralled by Japanese aesthetics? I don't know. I really don't. I'm a pretty introspective guy and I like to think I know myself better than most people know themselves, but when it comes to this thing I'm just dumbstruck.

Irezumi, the art of traditional Japanese tattooing

I can look at photos of Tokyo, over-and-over, and completely swoon just over the style of the place. I'll be visiting it several times of the next few years despite the flight being 15-16 hours from where I live. Lost in Translation is my favorite film ever. I love Japanese ukiyo-e art so fanatically that by this time next year half of my upper body will be permanently covered with irezumi (left). And in a move even crazier than the tattoos, I tried really hard to like anime and manga! And I still really could not adequately articulate why I feel this way about Japanese art.

I just like it. It's just a thing I like.

That's all I've got.

So of course I would read Shogun. And of course I'd like it, too. As we've established, I'm not really the guy you go to for an objective review of Japanese media.

Shogun is long, and epic, and it's totally worth reading, I think, even if you don't have my complex. It's got its flaws: I found the entire romantic subplot to be pretty hokey and didn't really care much for the main character. But Tokugawa is such a phenomenal character, and his development through the story, in addition to the main character's unique viewpoint of Japanese culture, kept me reading and pushing through to the end.

If you think you'd like this kind of thing then you probably will. Give it a shot.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Greek Myths (1955) by Robert Graves

I'm not sure whether to give this a negative review because Graves' delivery is so dry it seems almost intentionally unengaging, or to give it a great review because it's an all-encompassing study of the sources available for us today. Indeed, this belongs on everyone's bookshelf for quick reference. Or at least, it would have before the internet was invented.

Probably my lack of enjoyment of this volume stems from the fact that I thought it was something it was not until I opened it and began reading it. I was expecting a collection of short fiction in which Graves skillfully imparts Greek myths, and I instead got terse blurbs describing them with each followed by a lengthy discussion on the sources and historiography from Graves himself. While this is an invaluable tool to anybody studying or teaching mythology in an academic sense, it makes for very dry pleasure reading, and I ended up putting it down about halfway through and picking up Homer's Iliad instead.

HI am familiar with this type of tome, having studied history as an undergrad. But I can't say I missed the instances of several passages discussing names, births, and progeny, droning on and on ad nauseam. But again, this is counterbalanced by the fact that this is a fantastic collection, including sources, of these myths.

Perhaps I'm just not a fan of Graves' style. I didn't love I, Claudius despite having a keen interest in Roman Civ, and I certainly didn't love this. But I still feel it holds some value due to the quality of its study and its value as a quick reference tome for anybody interested in Greek Mythology.

⭐⭐