Category Archives: Reviews

Subtitled “Tales of CEOs Gone Wild”, this book should really have had a different subtitle– maybe “Poorly Written Character Assassination” would have better captured the flavor. Bryon proposes to relate the career and personal mishaps of Jack Welch (GE), Dennis Kozlowski (Tyco), Al Dunlap (Sunbeam, among others), and Ron Perelman (Revlon and others). Unfortunately, he wastes most of the book on unsupported pop-psych theories (Welch was an aggressive CEO because his mom called him a “punk”), with the underlying theme being that an excess of testosterone caused all four of these men to eventually self-destruct. No one’s portrayed in a flattering light here, but Welch comes in for special treatment, despite the fact that he was the only one of these CEOs to actually accomplish any meaningful creation of lasting value. Byron’s writing is annoying as all get-out, too; he uses footnotes to excess to explain simple things (who’s Lilith?) that I suspect most readers would already know and makes sloppy errors (like talking about Welch’s “neck waddle”) that bespeak a lack of editing– which in turn makes me doubt the veracity of some of what he reports.

Not only do I not recommend this book, I’m sorry my local library spent the money to buy it. Awful.

Ever read a book where you are simultaneously unable to put it down and aggravated by it? That’s exactly the situation I found with S.M. Stirling’s Dies the Fire, which I can best described as an extended wank. The central plot device is a machina ex deus: all high-energy-density technologies just quit. No gunpowder; no explosives; no internal combustion; no batteries, or anything else electrical. We see “the Change” through two primary characters: a strapping outdoorsman/ex-Marine and (get ready) a guitar-playing Wiccan bar musician. By novel’s end, these two folks have assembled large fighting forces, battled all manner of evil, and joined forces for what I assume will be a long series of novels exploring this world; at the end of the book, there’s a major bad guy still running Portland, and he has dreams of expanding eastward…

It’s well enough written for the most part, but there are several things that really bugged me. First, describing the characters as cardboard is doing a disservice to all the folks who toil at the corrugating machines. In particular, it’s very, very hard to swallow the sudden transformation of a peace-loving, tofu-eating witch with apparently no useful skills into the self-actualized leader of a community of 200. Second, the plot is obvious. There are no twists; the fate of every character Stirling introduces is pretty much clear from the outset. Third, there are so many fortunate coincidences that suspending your disbelief gets pretty hard– the good guys just accidentally happen to end up with bowmakers, doctors, and horse trainers; given how scarce those occupations are in real life it’s hard to imagine that the odds against finding all of them are that high. Fourth, it’s a religion thing. The few Christians in the book are all portrayed as hateful, intolerant, and bigoted, while the Wiccans are just precious. Their rituals (which may or not be authentic; beats me) are portrayed in some detail, and that becomes boring and repetitive fairly quickly.

The biggest problem I had, though, is the smarmy tone as we’re told, again and again, that the only survivors are people who spent time before the Change learning how to fight with swords and make their own chain mail, e.g. SCA members and other such. Imagine being locked in an elevator with the avid SCA members you knew in college, and you’ll get the idea.

The shame of it is, I’ll probably read the next book in the series to see how it turns out, but I’ll probably fume all the way through it. Not especially recommended.

One of the few complaints I have with the Year’s Best Science Fiction is that editor Gardner Dozois overuses the adjective “pyrotechnic” for stories. However, I can’t find another word that accurately captures these two books (Altered Carbon and Broken Angels) by Richard K. Morgan. Rarely have I read such a rich combination of technology, action, and introspection.
The central character of both books is Takeshi Kovacs, a native of Harlan’s World (settled by Japanese companies who hired cheap Eastern European labor). Kovacs is a former UN Envoy, meaning that he’s undergone an extensive set of psychological and physical modifications to his body. Of course, the physical mods are secondary, because in Morgan’s future world, most folks are fitted with “cortical stacks” that act sort of like flight data recorders for the human brain. By putting your stack in a new body (or “sleeve”), you can easily be resurrected– as long as your stack isn’t damaged or lost.That opens up a wealth of possibilities, including bodiless business travel (check in in LA, have your stack contents broadcast to Osaka, and get a new sleeve for your 8am meeting),and virtual reality environments for police interrogation, psychotherapy, torture, and integration of stacks with military campaigns. One jarring note to this world is that life is extremely cheap; mass murder is fairly commonplace, and this is offputting. To say that Kovacs is cynical would be extreme understatement; on the other hand, when you end up a mercenary who can be resurrected time after time by resleeving, it’s hard to imagine turning out any other way. However, his cynicism is tempered by a fine eye for the good qualities in his fellow beings (although given who he works for, and with, these are depressingly few) and a sharp wit.
The actual plots of the books are relatively unimportant (although they are both well-plotted and engaging). The first book is a straightforward murder mystery; the second is a more complicated tale of the hunt for an artifact of great value. Both have a large number of plot twists and reversals that Morgan choreographs expertly. The only real moment of disbelief I had was when Kovacs ends up in Bay City, nee San Francisco; the odds that the city will still exist in 500 years defies probability.
To me, what made these books so fascinating was the density of well-realized future concepts that X throws off. Among his ideas: power knuckles (a cross between brass knucks and a cattle prod), an AI-operated Haight Ashbury hotel in San Fransciso named the Hendrix, street broadcasters who transmit direct-to-brain commercials (which, fortunately, can be filtered by vehicles), Catholics who shun resleeving technology for religious reasons, sleeve leases, custom-built genotypes for various tasks (i.e. a radiation-resistant sleeve based on Maori genes), criminals whose stacks are stored (effectively incarcerating them, unaware, without the consequences of traditional prisons)liquid spacesuits that harden into impermeable, self-healing units when activated, and– oh yes– Martians, who have all gone *somewhere* but not before leaving behind a variety of artifacts (including maps to several terrestroid planets and faster-than-light communications equipment). Morgan tosses these out like confetti; it’s not so much that he explains them in depth as that he very deftly sketches the implications of technical developments today in a way that makes it clear where we’re headed.
I suppose the best recommendation I can give thse books is this: I haven’t felt the same sense of mingled possibility (O brave new world, that has such wonders in it!) and dread (imagine if things *do* turn out this way in 500 years). These two are on my end-of-year “10 Best” list.

I really enjoyed the first two John Rain novels (reviews here and here), so I had high expectations for Rain Storm, the third Barry Eisler book featuring John Rain. In this book, we find Rain in Macau, where he’s trying to kill an arms dealer on behalf of the CIA. Of course, the backstory is that Rain left Japan on the run and moved to Brazil, the better to live longer. His new identity is compromised, though, and so he takes on what he hopes will be one last job. Without giving away too many of the details, let’s just say that the best-laid plans gang aft agley.
Eisler does a superb job of setting locales here, perhaps more so than the preceding two books. The descriptions of Rio, Macau, and even suburban Virginia all gave me a strong and immediate feeling of being there, something that I didn’t get from the Tokyo scenes in this book. There’s less of the jazz-and-single-malt navel-gazing, which I found welcome (since I don’t drink and don’t know anything about jazz). This is not to say that there’s less introspection on Rain’s part; there’s more, and that’s one of the most charming features of the book. Despite what he does for a living, Rain is likable! This might seem odd, since assassins aren’t generally seen as sympathetic or likable in most contexts. However, like several of my friends with Special Forces experience (Todd and Ned immediately come to mind), once you get to know him, he’s a more sympathetic guy. Eisler gives Rain a great deal of emotional depth that I found quite resonant. Sure, the action scenes are great, and the weapons and gadgets are impressive. There are beautiful women, casinos, and all the other trappings we expect. What ultimately made this book work for me, though, were the scenes in which Rain evaluated who he was and what he wanted to be: a depth that’s missing from other thrillers.
I can’t wait for the next Rain book, due next summer. In the meantime, this one is highly recommended. (Bonus: don’t miss the FAQ at Eisler’s site). And, since I know he occasionally Googles for reviews: Barry, if you ever want to send Rain to south Louisiana or Ohio, let me know and I’ll hook you up!

Col. John Boyd, USAF, is one of the greatest military minds you’ve never heard of. Coram has written a supremely readable hybrid: it’s a biography and an entry-level introduction to Boyd’s two most seminal innovations: the energy-maneuverability theory (which quantified the previously ad-hoc business of air combat maneuvering) and the OODA loop, the first real practical explanation of the theory of maneuver warfare. Boyd’s theories– and his hard-fought efforts to publicize and prove them– gave us the F-15, the F-16, and the Marine Corps’ amphibious feint in the first Gulf War. As a man, Boyd was unyielding, incredibly stubborn, uncouth, profane, and more than a bit eccentric. He was a poor officer in most respects; he hated (and that’s not too strong a word) anyone who he perceived as having put expediency over accuracy, and he was more or less forced out of the Air Force as the result of the cumulative effect of all the impolitic things he said and did (and there were plenty!) At least the way Coram tells it, Boyd was also a terrible husband and father. In fact, the accounts of how indifferent this otherwise brilliant man was toward his wife and children to my mind diminished his stature considerably. A little more consideration and interpersonal skill could have made his life and career much more pleasant for everyone involved. However, that lack doesn’t reduce the scope of what Boyd did, and Coram tells the story with flair. There’s enough detail on E-M theory and the OODA loop to introduce them without overwhelming people who aren’t fighter pilots or military strategists; Coram also suggests several follow-up references that I’m digging into as time allows. Highly recommended. One final note: Boyd was also a Georgia Tech graduate. Go Jackets!

Evan Wright must have been crazy: he went into Iraq with the First Recon Battalion of the US Marine Corps’ First Marine Division, then wrote a book about his experience. Wright does a terrific job of portraying the men in the unit: although they are highly skilled, they are also (for the most part) young, and they have a wide range of opinions about where they are and what they’re doing. Wright finds the same Marine Corps archetypes in First Recon that most of us are familiar with: the steely-eyed stone killer; the rebel who joins the military one step ahead of the law; the pretty-boy whose physical beauty belies his killer instinct; the dumb officer. He does a marvelous job of portraying both the terror of combat and its aftermath, particularly in his exposition of the few occasions when the team he was with accidentally killed noncombatants. My primary complaint about the book is that Wright portrays the battalion commander, and most of his subordinate officers, as buffoons (which is why two of them, “Captain America” and “Encino Man” get nicknames). To be sure, this is a welcome contrast to Atkinson’s book, but it’s hard to believe that the officers of such an elite unit are really such rockheads. Nonetheless, I recommend this book highly.

Of the several books I’ve read on the Iraq war, I’d have to say this one is the best pure military history. The authors have an extensive military background (both were infantry officers in Vietnam; Smith retired from the Marine Corps as a major general, and West is a former assistant secretary of defense whose son Owen is a Force Recon officer). Their plan was fairly simple: they showed up in Kuwait and wangled permission to ride north with 1st Marine Division units, then they wrote about what they saw. This includes the good (the capture of the critical Az Zubayr pumping station on D+1 by two squads of riflemen) and the bad (Col Joe Dowdy’s indecisive use of RCT1, which eventually led to his relief). Along the way, West and Smith do an excellent job of outlining the tactical actions taken by 1st MARDIV units. This is something that was completely missing from Atkinson’s otherwise excellent book. As you might expect, the authors also do an impressive job of characterizing the ordinary Marines they come into contact with, but they do spent a fair amount of time with Major General James Mattis, the 1st Division commander. Their focus on him, though, revolves much more around his tactical and strategic decisions, without much of the touchy-feely philosophizing that characterizes some of Atkinson’s writing about Petraeus. One complaint I have about The March Up is that it skips over some critical details– the battle for An Nasiriyah gets short shrift, and there have been several complaints from participants in the battle (notably this one) that West and Smith got some critical details wrong. That isn’t surprising, given that this book was published very soon after Baghdad fell. It’s an interesting and engaging read (and the excellent color photos in the center are an extremely nice addition).
(Bonus Marine joke here.)

Wonderful! Clean, pleasant hotel with a friendly, attentive staff. Great pillows and a curved shower-curtain rod round out the experience (and the free in-room wireless didn’t hurt any either). I’ve stayed at $200/night hotels that weren’t this nice (like the Sheraton Four Seasons in Newark, bah!) Highly recommended.

Rick Atkinson has written a solid book based on his experience as an embedded reporter with the 101st Airborne Division of the US Army during the Iraq war. As a number of Amazon reviewers pointed out, this isn’t the same kind of book as The March Up (which I’ve also read); Atkinson’s book is mostly about Major General David Petraeus, commander of the 101st. Petraeus comes across as a complicated and nuanced figure, and there’s no question that Atkinson has painted a rich picture of what it’s like to be responsible for 17,000 troops and several billion dollars of equipment in combat. However, ultimately I found the book unfulfilling. There’s little discussion of tactics, and the lowest- ranking person Atkinson seems to have talked to is a major. The grunts who make up the 101st are given short shrift, and that’s too bad. If you want to see Atkinson at his best, read his Pulitzer Prize winner, An Army at Dawn, instead.

Chris Whitcomb’s first book, Cold Zero, was a memoir of (part of) his time on the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team. I found it fascinating, and part of that was because of Whitcomb’s clear, direct prose style. Now his first novel, Black, is out. Frankly, the nonfiction book was better. In Black, Whitcomb’s protagonist is Jeremy Waller, a young FBI agent who joins HRT and ends up involved in a bizarre antiterrorist mission that is much different than it seems. Along with Waller, we have a risk-loving corporate executive who may or may not be a CIA operative, a megalomaniac multibillionaire who may or may not be a traitor, and a wealth of technical detail that may or may not be accurate (in fairness, Whitcomb does a pretty good job with the technology). There are a couple of last-minute plot twists that are regrettably predictable, and the ending is anticlimactic. I think Whitcomb can do better.

This is by far the catchiest message song I’ve ever heard. Check the lyrics:

Whether long range weapon or suicide bomber
Wicked mind is a weapon of mass destruction
Whether you’re soar away sun or BBC 1
Misinformation is a weapon of mass destruc
You could a Caucasian or a poor Asian
Racism is a weapon of mass destruction
Whether inflation or globalization
Fear is a weapon of mass destruction

I found this book quite by accident while scanning the shelves at the local library. I confess that the title made me pick it up; only when I did so did I see the subtitle: “One Couple’s Trial By Trail”. The basic idea: take two novice hikers and see if they still love each other after hiking from Mexico to Canada along the 2600+-mile Pacific Crest Trail. Will they survive? Will they still love each other? Will they make it to the end of the trail?
The two of them alternate chapters in the book, which is a nice change of pace. Duffy tends to be pretty hard-hearted, while Angela unfortunately comes across as a bit whiny and clingy at times. The descriptions of the trail itself are wonderful, and the narrative is entertaining; I just didn’t get the sense that either one of them would be great friend material. I confess that the book did make me interested in hiking the PCT, even though the ending (Hey! We made it to Canada! We got married! Book’s over!) was somewhat anticlimactic. On reflection, I guess that’s how they really felt after their huge accomplishment– after finishing the trail, they returned to their normal lives in Philadelphia. Not bad, but you might prefer it in paperback.