Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian - Review

Out with a Whimper


It's always sad when something you've been following for a long time comes to a close, but there's always the hope that it will finish on a high. 2012 has seen a lot of endings for me, but unfortunately they've all been disappointing (to varying degrees). In this post, I'll tackle "The Last Guardian", the eighth - and presumably final - Artemis Fowl novel, a series I've been reading for eleven years (spoilers throughout).

When I first started the Artemis Fowl books I was twelve, the same age as the protagonist. Its was a fascinating world, with high-tech fairies, amoral child masterminds, and exciting set-pieces. Unfortunately, the writing seemed to grow less sophisticated as time went on, with the low quality of the previous entry leaving me unenthusiastic about this adventure. While I do like being proven right, I'd have been far happier had I been wrong on this occasion.

So, why does it disappoint? Essentially, it's because the premise of the novel has Artemis trying to stop humanity from being wiped out. The stakes are so ludicrously high that you know from the very beginning that he will succeed. Furthermore, there's a scene very early on that has a catastrophic effect on modern technology, with everything from vehicles to the internet to satellites being destroyed. This would result in the loss of life on a massive scale, and completely robs the rest of the book of impact. The ending tries to gloss things over the repercussions with a silly epilogue, but the idealistic picture he tries to paint completely fails to make me suspend my disbelief, especially when it's at odds with the message of "Humanity is destructive" that he's been crafting throughout the series.

Another fault with the novel is the second plot thread, the Berserkers. They are ancient warriors who fought against humanity back when the People still lived on the surface, choosing to be sealed in the Earth for ten thousand years to protect the first Gate. They yearn for the day they are released to fight the hated humans, and one of them imagines how fearsome he'd be in the body of a troll with his elivsh mind. Unfortunately, due to the location of the seal, when they are summoned by Opal Koboi (yes, her again) the vast majority of them end up inhabiting long dead bodies and animals such as hunting dogs, rabbits and even a robin.

A robin.

They then proceed to mill around and be completely unthreatening for the remainder of the book, several of them getting eaten by fan-favourite Mulch Diggums (their souls go to heaven, the dogs just die). Juliet and both of Artemis's brothers are taken over, but nothing at all comes of this. One of his brothers hits Opal and the other sporadically regains control of his body to crack wise, but they do nothing else. The spirit possessing Juliet is the greatest disappointment - she is the only one not restricted by her host body, but Colfer makes no effort to craft an interesting setpiece between, say, her and Butler. In fact, Butler does almost nothing at all this book; Holly at one point remarks that if a spirit possessed Butler it'd all be over, but having read the book they would have done just fine.

This is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to disappointing use of characters. An ancient troll who, if controlled, could have made for a scene to match the one where Butler defeats another using medieval armour back in the first book, is instead beaten by Mulch offscreen (somehow). The warlock traitor who attempted to betray the People and was the reason for the the "wipe out humanity" fail-safe gets a single mention, so apparently he did it because reasons (and how does it make sense to have an eradicate humanity button when it was a fairy who sold you out?). The younger Opal Koboi, who escaped from her timestream back in the sixth book, somehow goes from criminal mastermind to incompetent wretch, and is unceremoniously disposed of in the opening scenes.

(Speaking of previous books, whatever happened to Minerva from the fifth adventure? While I appreciate that her inclusion was the second most ridiculous fanfiction-esque bit of writing Eoin Colfer has ever done - the most ridiculous being de-aging Holly and having her kiss Artemis in book six - having her as an ally would have made for a far more robust story. Ignoring her seems ill-advised, especially as she was present in the book where Miles and Beckett are introduced. But I digress.)

Artemis himself is completely and utterly worthless until the very last 30 pages or so. This is not an exaggeration. He achieves nothing at all. The book's narrative tries to justify this by saying "he was so used to his plans succeeding, he never made a backup", but that's just patently false for anyone who's read the previous seven in the series. Just about the only character that manages to live up to expectations is Opal's clone, who is so blatantly telegraphed as the solution to the problem that even a twelve year old could figure it out.  To be fair though, I thought the same about a line where Holly recalls a family nickname her father called her by - I presumed that she would encounter the original as the eponymous Last Guardian, but it was apparently a red herring.

That might be giving the author too much credit though. The book is filled with a great many pointless little exchanges and scenes that do absolutely nothing to advance the plot. There's a bit where Foaly sets off to rescue his wife, Caballine, a character of no consequence whatsoever. She's no Julius Root, whose death was a major motivating factor in Book 4. She's not even on the level of Vinyaya, Holly's role model who was unceremoniously disposed of for no particular reason at the start of (the also disappointing) Book 7. The entire little interlude with her just reminds you of better times and better books, when goblins were threatening and time stops were cool.

Nothing cool happens in The Last Guardian. This isn't an exaggeration; literally every time there's a chance to have a cool scene, it's brought to an abrupt end. Butler vs a Juliet inhabited by an extremely experienced combatant? Nah. Giant solar powered laser? Nah.  Savvy Troll? Nah. Butler vs Juliet 2: Electric Boogaloo? Nah. The only danger our heroes face, and I must stress that I am not joking here, is when they are accosted by large, magical crickets, and have to jump into a lake to escape them.

Crickets.

The writing also seems particularly weak. Artemis was a far more interesting character when he was technically the villain of the series - it made him an evil genius rather than an insufferable child. Characters who have proven themselves to be more than one-note end up falling back on the tried and tested, and most of the jokes fall flat. To cap it off, there' s a lot of showing and telling;  it's bad writing at best and insulting of the reader's intelligence at worst.

It's sad really, Artemis's last outing could have been so much more. For what it's worth though, the last scene is quite poignant and a nice callback, if marred somewhat by overtelling and pointless amnesia.

Authorial Intent (Part 1)

I'm not at all ashamed to admit that I used to read and write fanfiction; I still get pangs from time to time but try and convince myself that if I'm writing I should put my efforts towards original stories (and end up writing nothing at all). Hell, I've even got a couple of fics that I can read today without cringing at their consummate awfulness (and some that are so terrible I can't bring myself to read em, but eh). An interesting aspect of fanfiction (perhaps due to the fact that many fic authors are female) is that it is very concerned with pairing off characters, and often in ways that the original creator did not intend.

As a former "shipper" (the name given to people who are particularly fond of a certain pairing, for example Ginny x Draco in Harry Potter) I'm acutely aware of this whenever I try and write a platonic friendship between a boy and a girl. What would be perfectly normal actions in real life can translate to simmering sexual tension in the eyes of a shipper.

I should take this time to point out that many shippers are quite, quite mad, choosing to see love and/or lust in the most mundane of things, deliberately misunderstanding the dynamic between some characters, declaring a typical resentment to be grounds for love/hate (which in itself is quite mad behaviour) and outright fabricating connections when there aren't any (see the above Draco x Ginny example; have they ever even said a word to each other, canonically?). Accounting for them is like trying to predict English weather, but I try nonetheless.

I also feel that to make a good story you need to put a lot of yourself into it, and that the best stories are ones that share a little something of a person's worldview. I think it was a Tim Rogers quote that said that said how you have to be vain to be a novelist, because you have to believe what you want to tell people is something that they should hear. At the same time however, I feel that this shouldn't get in the way of the story, instead complimenting it subtly. Of course, leaving things too open allows for misinterpretation, with people deriving entirely the wrong point from the message you were trying to convey.

Re-reading His Dark Materials I was surprised at quite heavy-handed Pullman was, which is rather saying something when you're talking about a book where God dies. It's a hard decision to make and an even harder balance to strike - the strength of the characters and writing meant that it didn't seem the wrong choice in HDM, but I very much doubt that I'd be able to do the same thing. Reading my own original work, my characters always seem to be very blatant copies of me, and the tone of the novel seems very deliberately trying to get a point across, but maybe it just seems that way to me as the creator.

This post was originally made back in like August and I've long since lost the train of thought, but it's an interesting topic I'd like to come back to. Let's call this Part 1!

A Dance with Dragons - Review

I often find that while I'm often initially very enthusiastic about something, this tends to wane over time due to contemplation, further experience and discussion. This is something of an abnormal attitude on the internet where people always seem to be 100% assured of their own opinion and can rarely be dissuaded, but I think it's helped me organise my thoughts better; there are a great many people more eloquent and observant than I am after all.

With that in mind, here follows my review of George RR Martin's A Dance with Dragons, the fifth book in his A Song of Ice and Fire series - written significantly after release so I've had time to marshal my thoughts (and forget some, like as not). I've kept it as spoiler-free as possible, due to many people being introduced to the series through the show.

For some fans, it has been a five year long wait for this book. I can count myself lucky; I started the series late last year and was unable to bring myself to finish the fourth book until earlier this year, shortly before the show started. DWD had a lot riding on it – it had to make up for A Feast for Crows’ departure from familiar characters and environs, move the story forward (the period covered in four and five was originally planned to be a time skip until Martin realised that there was too much that would need explaining) and justify the long wait.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite manage to fully accomplish any of these tasks. It starts off very well and has some genuinely excellent moments throughout, but for most of the middle it gives the feeling of not progressing. The ending is somewhat typical Martin shock fare, though by this point we’re rather accustomed to it and cannot get into it too much in any case, as unlike the events in the previous books we don’t get follow-up chapters that show the fallout, so the outcome remains ambiguous. With the bait-and-switch having been used too much, it’s hard to do much more than roll your eyes, especially with how long it took the instalment to come out. That said, Martin ending it as he did shows a certain confidence that he can release the next book in a timely manner, and a commitment to continuing on his current track.

A personal factor for me is that I find it hard to form attachments to Martin’s characters. Atypically, it’s not to do with the fact that they are underdeveloped; rather, it’s because the surviving cast have been through so many hardships that have changed them for the worse. Indeed, one of the main perspectives in DWD was so embittered by the events of A Storm of Swords that I couldn’t enjoy his chapters, despite him formerly being one of my favourite characters.

Structurally, DWD has three “main” perspectives who get the lion’s share of appearances, with the rest of the cast generally having two to four chapters each. The cast of characters covered totals an impressive sixteen, though some make rather a better showing of it than others. Of the four (if I recall correctly) new perspectives, while they all move the story forward only one I feel truly acquits himself well; of the others one is relatively dull despite being of significant import to the game of thrones, the thread introduced in AFfC is uninteresting and concludes in a disappointing manner, and one actually damages the mystery surrounding the character.

My biggest issue with DWD is that so much of the focus is away from the location we’ve invested the most time in and care about – much of the book is concerned with Meereen rather than Westeros and the Wall.

DWD is by no means a bad book, but when held up against the events the first three and the change in tone of the fourth book, it feels very lacking. It returns to many of the perspectives we last saw in a Storm of Swords and attempts to continue their story, but save for a few core arcs a lot of it feels superfluous, as if the story is treading water. It's a shame as I felt that it started very well; it's just that after the impressive beginning not much happens until the end. There's also the fact that after several thousand pages I'm rather used to Martin's tricks, so something that might have shocked or had me gripped before instead causes me to roll my eyes.

I also think it suffers from rather too much fan-pandering.  There was also one character who showed up quite literally for a single chapter only, and did nothing save acknowledge some setup from AFfC. That said, many of returning cast of characters were a treat to read, doing rather more with their handful of characters than the big players did with their many.

Something worth noting is that Martin's writing style feels as if it has changed slightly; some dialogue feels more modern and he rather overuses repetition of key phrases and certain words, which took me out of the experience a little whenever it cropped up. His world-building remains as strong as ever though, with the descriptions of food still bordering on pornographic.

All in all, Dance is one of the weaker books in Martin's series, and frustratingly ends just as it feels as if things are about to pick up. All this is understandable when you take into consideration the fact that it was meant as a transitionary book, but this is scant comfort when you're left wanting more at the end.

Monstrous Regiment - Review

I have three main problems with Monstrous Regiment.

1. It is boring. Polly is not an interesting character. She has one underlying motivation – to find her brother – and that is all. She likes her hair I guess? Okay. The rest of the cast is no better, save perhaps Blouse. So she becomes leader of a group just like hers, and takes up a Jackrum-like persona. Um, okay?

2. It is pointless. We are transported to an area of the world we have never heard about even vaguely, and a good deal of effort is expended trying to flesh out this awful location. The watch are completely superfluous here. The country is embroiled in a pointless war, and the little squad doesn’t change anything. The deaths they cause are needless, and if the characters hadn’t even joined up the ending would have been the same.

3. It is preachy. I believe the best stories have a message to share, but Pratchett is unusually heavy-handed here – it’s all message and no story. It squeezes in a lot of awful clichés – the abusive priest, the Victorian-esque workhouse for girls, the evils of blind faith, hypocrisy, censorship and propaganda, women being treated as inferior to men, the terrible things people are driven to in war. All of these issues he has tackled before, and far more eloquently. Angua, the witches and Susan are excellent proponents of feminism, Small Gods is an interesting take on belief and so on. There are too many ideas he's trying to explore in this one book.

I remember it coming out around the time of our actions in Iraq, so there’s also the fact that Ankh Morpork is only intervening because the clacks towers and the mail road are being destroyed, to serve their own interests. I thought it pretty blatant at the time and re-reading it hasn't changed my mind. Still, I did like the end of it when the general grimness was lightened, the obvious "oh they're all girls what a surprise" was out in the open and interesting stuff could actually happen.

It had the bad luck to come out between Night Watch and Going Postal, two excellent Pratchett stories. I guess they can't all be gems.

DXHR endings, SPOILERS

Here's a quick and dirty take on the Deus Ex: Human Revolutions endings, heavy spoilers for the game. I'll have a more in-depth write up on the game in a bit.

Almost without exception, what Eliza said would happen upon the release of whichever information was different to what I would have expected. Now, you might put this down to bad writing, or you can consider that the game is being rather more tricksy than that – Eliza is, after all, an extremely advanced artificial intelligence created by the Illuminati to spin information how they wish.

Darrow’s ending is the most extreme example for me. Unveiling the truth would definitely halt development in augmentation and reveal the existence of the Illuminati, but to lead to a complete Luddite revolution? That seems like a remarkable stretch, plus the Illuminati will absolutely have the upper hand in the ensuing new world order. To me, it feels like Eliza could be trying to warn you off this path.

Next up, the “destroy the base and let humanity sort itself out” ending. Hmm. So; we have the Illuminati still existing in secrecy, in possession of the ability to disable augments in those who oppose them, and massive anti-augmentation sentiment because they just went on an unexplained murderous rampage. That’s just ridiculous. It also ignores the fact that Malik, Pritchard and the scientists are still out there and able to spill the beans, so... (Plus blowing up a base full of people after my pacifist run just doesn’t jive.)

Taggert’s ending is less Eliza and more the man himself. I gotta say, he sweet-talked me into his way of thinking, because honestly regulation of augments is not at all a bad thing. Ideally they’d be limited to those who need them; amputees, the blind and so on, rather than this perverse bling culture and weaponisation. If Taggert wasn’t associated with the Illuminati his ending would seem far and away the most reasonable, in my opinion.

Sarif’s ideal is the most pure; it just happens to be one I disagree with. I don’t view augmentation as a means of bettering myself – I like hitting the gym, practicing things ‘til I get them right, improving organically like that. His actually strikes the most significant blow against Illuminati if you consider their ties to Purity First, but it does so in a way that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Alas, if only I was more transhumanist.

So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish - Review

Well, how embarrassing. It appears that titular means ‘in title only’, so my use of it referring to the guide yesterday was quite wrong. What I should have used instead was ‘eponymous’, which is a considerably more badass sounding word in any case. We live and learn.

 ‘So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish’, the fourth book in the rather inaccurately named Hitchhiker’s trilogy, is really a radical departure from the first three books in the series. For me, it was very much like going from an early Pratchett like The Colour of Magic to one of his later books, say Witches Abroad. It feels much more coherent and refined, with the meanderings in the story adding to the general experience rather than coming across as non-sequiturs.

The fact that I enjoyed it so much more is, of course, largely due to personal preference; I prefer character driven plots significantly more than the alternative, especially concerning relationships, and the fact that the tone is rather lighter throughout appealed to me as well. Indeed, it even pokes fun at a few of the issues I raised in my earlier review, particularly with regards to fleshing out Arthur. He has so much more personality here, and his relationships with the other characters are better for it.

Honestly, I feel like ‘So Long’ works exceptionally well as a standalone story. There are of course references to the preceding books, but none of them are necessary to the understanding of the plot; it provides a fresh beginning and a solid end, wrapping up the arc neatly. This of course is a problem, as there are two more books in the series. Five is known to be significantly more miserable due to Adams going through a rough patch, and the sixth was written by someone entirely different following his death.

Having read synopses they sound interesting but perhaps rely too much on bringing back past characters (though of course these highly improbable coincidences are bound to happen when using the Heart of Gold) while Four stands on its own merits. Eoin Colfer, the author of the sixth book, has somewhat fallen out of my favour recently, due to the decidedly awful decisions he made with his Artemis Fowl series.

Regardless of whether or not I eventually choose to continue with the rest of the books (and I almost certainly will; I hate to leave things unfinished), I can safely state that, thanks to the fourth entry to the series, ‘Hitchhikers’ is worth a look.

Next project: re-reading Monstrous Regiment to see if it’s as weak as I remember.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Trilogy - Review

I was all set this morning to dutifully stride up to the boss’s desk, sweep aside the Star Wars memorabilia and throw down my geek badge, as I hadn’t found the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy to be all that. It was often very funny, thought-provoking and at times prescient – the titular guide put me in mind of nothing so much as a combination of a Kindle and Wikipedia – but I was unable to connect much with the characters and was bothered by the lack of any coherent plot. However, eight chapters into ‘So Long and Thanks for all the Fish’ and I’ve laughed out loud quite a few times and am genuinely interested to see what happens to Arthur and Ford. I’m optimistic that this will mark an upturn in the series for me, so fingers crossed.

Let me expand on my issues with the first three novels. First and foremost is the character of Arthur Dent. He is introduced to us as a typical, if somewhat strange, everyday guy – the reader’s surrogate. He gets swept up in these events far bigger than himself, and understandably feels incredibly lonely. Later, we find out that in his mind is locked the ultimate Question of Life, the Universe and Everything (we already know that the answer is 42) and despite being given the option to resolve this by having Marvin (an incredibly miserable robot, so depressing to be around that when he interfaces with other machines they tend to commit suicide) read his brainwaves, this is ignored forever.

I’m getting ahead of myself a little bit, let me back up. Now, while Arthur is understandably off-balance initially, he doesn’t really ever find his feet. Indeed, his feelings are ignored by his companions and he is regularly treated awfully and dismissively. In addition to that, he actually is a bit of a whiner, to the point where you rather wish he’d get on with it. The problem is that as the reader’s surrogate, every time he – and Earth, which he often finds himself representing – is put down, you feel it too. He does have his moments though, and sharing them with him is a delight.

The other main characters are Ford, a researcher for the Guide; Zaphod, the two-headed ex-president of the Galaxy; Trillian, an Earth woman who met Zaphod at a party and went off with him bringing her two mice; and the aforementioned Marvin. Ford is a seasoned traveller never found without his towel, the sole survivor from a planet in distant Betelgeuse-7. He’s kind of a dick at times, perhaps due to the fact that his home planet may have been made up by his father (we never really find out).

Zaphod is sort of related to Ford, and sees himself as a really cool, fun and happening guy, which is alright as that’s how most of the galaxy sees him too. He however hides a dark secret; some time in his past he hatched a plot with several other characters (most of whom we never meet and all of whom we learn precious little about) to find the man who runs the universe, operating on his own brain to seal this plot away. This is resolved in a very unsatisfactory manner at the end of the second book; at any rate I assume it’s resolved, as there was no mention of it at all in the third.

Trillian is just sort of there. She is the brains of the outfit, such as it is, and ends up being an inexplicable plot resolution device for the third book. She and Zaphod have a thing going on, despite him rather taking her for-granted a lot of the time, and Arthur kinda sorta likes her (he was at the party where she went off with Zaphod, though he only had one head then). Marvin is rather more fun than these three combined (though Ford does have his moments), bemoaning the fact that he was programmed to be permanently miserable, despising other, perpetually cheery devices and pointing out to anyone who’ll listen (very often no one) how his vast intellect is entirely wasted.

The above tells you just about everything there is to know about those characters, and any steps taken to flesh them out a little end up trailing off, forgotten. This wouldn’t be so bad if the stories themselves were engaging (the DaVinci Code is a good example of this working) but unfortunately they mostly serve as a vehicle for observations about the nature of space, science and people, as well as quirky and occasionally rather bleak shenanigans. To give credit where it’s due it really is very interesting; I just found it hard to read for long stretches of time due to the somewhat random nature of the events. I’ve been progressing due to my reading sessions being broken up into my commute into and home from work as well as my lunch break, but were it a typical read I’d likely find myself putting it down for something rather more meaty.

The fourth book taking steps to establish what appears to be a genuinely coherent narrative is absolutely the best possible outcome I could have hoped for, and I hope it continues going forward. I’ll keep you posted.

(PS: I know this isn’t what I said I’d post in my last entry; that one is currently sitting half-finished. I’ll see if I can’t get it up today or tomorrow.)