Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Sinai Tapestry by Edward Whittemore

This novel is a book of stories: anecdote upon anecdote piled on top of each other, not always yielding cohesion, a central plot or even universal binding elements, but always promising entertainment, vivid colorful storytelling, and some of the most original literature ever put on paper.

As there is no chance of the stories events depriving future readers of pleasure, I'll spell out things as cleanly as I can. The original bible was the ramblings of a blind man copied by a mute, dumb imbecile who had a penchant for embellishment. The events of the 'Sinai Bible' as it comes to be called, were predicted seven-hundred years before the actual biblical events. Naturally such a book contradicts every universal truth established in today's three major faiths. This book, is the unifying thread for many of the novel's events and characters. The novel's characters are as outlandish as you would expect considering the premise. "If the Father of the real Bible was an aging blind beggar and the Son was an imbecilic scribe, then Wallenstein would become the Holy Ghost and rewrite Scripture the way it ought to be written. The decision he had made in his cell was to forge the original Bible." This is story unlike any you've previously encountered.

Strongbow is the 29th Duke of Dorset who breaks all family tradition by living past the age of thirty, reading a book, and establishing himself as the world's preeminent scholar on sex in the Levant. In short he is, "a vicious onslaught on the entire rational world of the nineteenth century… In the end nothing could be said of his work except that it was preposterous and true and totally unacceptable." He is also deaf, seven feet seven inches tall, the most capable swordsman alive, turns down an invitation to the Cambridge Masturbation Society (the first to do so in the illustrious history of the club) and the leading expert in global botany. As the study of languages come easy, he takes to wandering the middle east. He eventually finds an original copy of the bible and processing it's knowledge has a very peculiar effect on Strongbow.

Wallenstein is a fanatical monk who decides to forge a copy of the original bible; a project that takes near a decade and claims his sanity. He justifies such a high price in knowing he served the greater good as society isn't ready for the true Sinai bible's truths. As he buries the original, he is observed by the 3,000 year old defender of Jerusalem Haj Harun, once fabled prince of the city. Wallenstein's forgery is later bought and sold many times at extremely high prices as the oldest surveying authentic bible and his life works sees better publicity than Strongbows: a thirty-three volume book on sex, that establishes the principles of "Strongbowism" and see all copies destroyed by the British government with twenty-four hours of publication as it it deemed to be decidedly un-English.

Strongbow's son, Stern, is a bit of a dreamer and writer as well. After receiving a very worldly education he outlines in three hundred pages the governance of a new nation where all peoples of the Levant can live together and in peace. Ironically, such idealic philosophy earns him a job running guns and like his father, seeing his written work destroyed. He finds solace in morphine and Maud, a beautiful American woman with connections to Wallenstein, and Joe O'Sullivan Beare--the Irish hero of the Easter Sunday massacre. (I'll spare you Joe's fourteen other names…) The wild character connections are multi-layered and join many involved in a unique suffering that seems to be a common bond.

While the real Sinai Bible's truths are incessantly on the minds of near all characters there are only loose central elements binding events and characters. Attempting to tease out these character relations and unifying elements is wildly entertaining and nearly impossible upon first reading without taking substantial notes. Collectively, the book feels like little more than an introduction to what comes next, but such a pleasure to read that it is hard to find overall fault.

A narrowing of focus maybe the best way I can describe Whittemores' approach in writing the novel. Events start broad, giving background and what seems an over indulgence of exposition. As events move forward they become more specific and unify multiple characters and Whittemore spends little to no time explaining feelings as the prior 'background' information is so firmly established that we know how the primary characters feel or would act given a certain situation.

As firmly established as some characters become it is how they change that is startling. Events in Syrma, Greece near the end of the first world war take heavy tolls on Stern and Joe. Beare, who has been a war veteran for six of his twenty one years, is suddenly unable to take a life when confronted with the horrific violence of intimate combat as opposed to his long ranged guerrilla warfare in Ireland. Equally sad is watching Stern accept realities of life, and give up on his dreams of peace in the Levant once and for all by the role he plays in this particular battle, and the 'mercy' he is able to grant.

Whittemore's knack of startling graphic violence actually works in this book, where I felt he may have come on too strong in his first novel Quin's Shaighai Circus. Indeed, everything about his writing seems more mature in this novel; from the dialogue to the perhaps overwrought plot complexities.

The book is faux-historical fiction; but it feels real and in some places it feels how events 'should have happened;' not so much an alternate reality, merely a secret one. There are moments when I said out loud, "This is the most absurd thing I've ever read" with a grin on my face, only to keep going. Throughout the duration of the novel, Whittemore spurns the highly preached 'show don't tell' rule focusing on history's highlights that will play a part in his story. He jumps around concerning the books chronology as he introduces new characters and their history. Every new character or chunk of text read makes you want to go back and read something previously covered, not for the purpose of discovering new meaning, but to uncover new mysteries. Despite the near ad hoc feel of the book's sequence of events it reads smoothly, never frustrates the reader and always builds anticipation for what comes next.

There is a constant feeling of starting over as we meet a new character and contrary to what you may think, each new beginning tells us something new about previous events that we thought we had a grasp on. An absurd story, and very unique characters combine for some of the most imaginative reading I've come across; originality like this is rare and an absolute pleasure. It's a grave disservice to English language readership that Whittemore's works are now--for the second time--out of print.

If all the preceding sounds absurd then you should hopefully be intrigued enough to see how it all comes together. He hits on all elements that can be called entertaining, and much like Quin's Shaghai Circus, manages shock and appall with the realities of human condition at war. The Bible is found; wholly rejected, and truth is prized by few. This is not a book that anyone could have written and if most were half as original to do so; it probably still wouldn't have been done this well.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Cataloging my Library.

I've played around with this idea before, but have never been able to justify the work. I have an odd tactile memory with things in my apartment: as long as I was the one to put something in its' current resting place, I know exactly where it is at any point in time. This, of course, includes my books. I don't have to hunt for a book, should I want to reference a passage, or wonder which stack on the floor of my closet a book is in. (I also never lose my keys.)

My friend, Gabe's apartment burned all the way down this weekend and he was faced with the awful scenario of, 'Ten seconds of snatch-and-grab, what should I take?' I, like Gabe, have good renters insurance, but seeing all he is going through may be impetus to sit down and account for all my books--some of which are rare, and pricey--should such a calamity befall me.

So since I'm going to be taking inventory and re-addressing the records, I might as well not half-ass the job and formally organize my meager book collection. Anyone done this before? What's the best method and how do I start?

Sunday, October 31, 2010

The Month In Review and of Things to Come

I liked this month. October helped remind me of all the good things that can happen in thirty-one days. The top of the list would be my announcement that I'm done with all things concerning my graduate school application. You wouldn't believe what a weight off my shoulders that is. All that is left to be done is: harness those who promised to write letters of recommendation and recover the obscene amount of money lost in applying for school and having transcripts sent here and there.

I finished up all my loose reading ends from last month which has given me a nice feeling of completion and most all of my comments regarding Edward Whittemore's Jerusalem Quartet are ready to go. Not gonna set anything aside to read for November as I'm feeling indecisive, but it's nice to not be reading a series. No matter how good an author setting or setup, series grow tiring to me at some point.

There's an interesting bit I'd like to share with the internet about literary criticism. Some odd feeling of professionalism that I don't owe the particular institution in questions is staying my hand from saying what's on my mind. We'll see if I can manage to hold out.

Hoping that I'll be successful in convincing at least one school into admitting me, I'm thirty-one days closer to not working my two crappy jobs than I was last month., and that is a very good thing.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

I have a Kindle

Temporarily...

So my friend Melanie is pretty awesome. We were talking this weekend, books came up and so did Kindle. I mentioned how I'd really like to try using one as I'm unwilling to pay the money without a demo of the product. To which she said, "Well, why don't you just take mine?" She doesn't use it as much as she thought she would and said she wouldn't miss it if I borrowed it for awhile. Pretty awesome huh?

She's hoping I'll fall in love with it and buy it from her. Because it's new and shiny and I haven't really used it yet, I'm hoping for the same thing too. It's nice to have amazing friends.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a new toy to play with.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Shopping

More interesting that what I bought is what I passed over. The first thing I saw upon entering my favorite used book store was four books written by Joe Abercrombie. I've heard his name kicked around a lot and even though I've pretty much sworn off epic fantasy, if I could've picked up all the books at the used book price I would do it. I think the previous owner carelessly read each of those books no less than fifty times.

They weren't so much used, as in already read, rather worn-the-hell-out. There wasn't much holding any of those together so I passed on the lot. All in all, I didn't feel bad about leaving them there. I also passed on three books by James Barclay for the same reason. (I wouldn't be surprised if they had the same previous owner.) He's an author I'm going to give a try at some point in time even though he writes epic fantasy. I seem to come across his name mentioned in the same sentence as David Gemmell's more than any other writer so perhaps whenever I start reading his work, he'll make me remember why I first fell in love with epic fantasy.

I saw about twenty different books by Melanie Rawn; if I get back into epic fantasy, I know where to go to pick up my fix.

I ended up with some big books: only one coming in at less than four-hundred pages and rest clearing six-hundred with ease. The Pillars of the Earth by (the reportedly awesome) Ken Follett, The Magus, by (the assuredly awesome) John Fowles, The Magicians by (The aspiring awesome) Lev Grossman, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by (The Awesome) Michael Chabon, Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco, and The Mammoth Book of Merlin editied by Mike Ashley comprised my purchase. $22.99 for two hardback and four trade paper backs all in great shape; I was proud of myself.

I'm most excited about the short story collection of all things. The author line up is stellar and I curious how Michael Swanwick can manage he particular brand of absurdly awesome into the Arthurian Legend.

I bought these books knowing I own about twenty that I haven't read, but I can honestly say, everything I bought was on the list. Considering the girth of my newest acquisitions I may need to cut down on my reading expectations for next year; that and reinforce my books shelves.

Monday, October 18, 2010

People who read a lot.

A friend told me the other day that she had met someone new and that I would like him for the same reasons she did: the type of music he likes, he's well educated and very intelligent, and he reads a lot. Until this particular conversation, I never would have thought this friend would say she, 'reads a lot', and it got me thinking.

Some quick--and very unscientific--internet research tells me the average American reads between three and seven books a year. Furthermore, the reality of an American "reading a book" means reading seventy pages in and putting it down for good. I don't think I read a lot but my goal for this year is fifty books. (I'm sitting on forty-two.) This friend is the same who has three copies of books I'd recommend, all of which have been untouched to the best of my knowledge.

I have no clue what it means to 'read a lot' perhaps this guy in question does. Does it mean more than the national average assuming such a number can be pinned down? I'm pretty sure such a definition doesn't matter. I'm also sure my friend (she doesn't read my blog so I can talk about her) does not 'read a lot' by any definition.

What does it mean to 'read a lot' to you and why do you think it enhances one's character to be able to make the claim?

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Subterranean Press; A Book Review.

In this series I'm going to evaluate the quality of book manufacturing from various publishers. I intend only to focus on the quality of the physical book itself. For previous comments on Easton Press, Everyman's library, Franklin Library, and what I deem "The mass market Hardback" please see the respective links.


Subterranean Press is a small independent press with a strong focus on fantasy and science fiction though they publish outside those genres. All of their books are of a 'limited edition' nature with high quality paper, sewn signatures, and no heed for the cost of ink; often printing with multiple colors. They feature small print runs; many of which are signed by the author, and create instant exclusivity. Subterranean Press publishes cloth bound and leather bound books. This review will only take the cloth bound books into account. I hope to own enough of the leather bound books to offer my comments soon.


The quality of these books are on par with those from Everyman's Library: top notch. The paper is an archival off-white, and the full cloth binding is very well done. There signatures are divisible by eight and seem to be on the large side; apparently at the discretion of the printer but have proven very durable. There standard Deluxe Hardback Editions run around twenty-five dollars and are worth the money if you are a collector, have interest in the author or have previously read the book in a different edition. The company has a very strong following that sometimes gobbles up all available copies of a book via pre-orders before it is released. This can make it difficult to 'get one's toes wet' if you aren't familiar with the author and are considering a purchase.


Collector's beware: Subterranean Press's warehouse staff seems to be nothing short of epochally terrible. It is all too often that the company newsletter announces it 'found' x number of copies of a previously sold out, out-of-print book. So if you're trying to sell them second hand for a profit I'd advise looking elsewhere. (I can admit that the preceding has nothing to do with book quality, but the frequency with which it happens and the books 'limited edition' nature makes me feel it was noteworthy.)


More than any other publisher I've come across Subterranean seems to go above and beyond when it comes to illustrations. Every one of their book covers are stunning; printed on a heavy matte photo paper to show off the commissioned artist as best they can. Many of the higher priced, signed editions will have multiple full color illustrations, all based on material from the novel, of course.


None of the Deluxe Hardback Editions I own features endpapers--which I think is a shame considering the limited edition nature of the books. The one signed author edition I do own does have endpapers and perhaps the price difference (my one signed edition is The Club Dumas by Arturo Pérez-Reverte listing at $125, and no I didn't pay anywhere near that for it) is the deciding factor.


My one true gripe with the quality of these books is that of every one I own there was a big glob of glue near the spine on either the tail or top edge that was so prominent and offensive to me, that it drove me to an x-acto knife, and the utmost care, to remove it. While this errant glob doesn't effect the quality, it is poor fit and finish on an otherwise excellent product.


You need to know you like the material before you buy, but should you purchase from Subterranean Press you will be assured a unique and gorgeous addition to your library.