Paul's Down-Home Page

First, let me say this: if you haven’t read Gould’s Jumper, you’re missing one of the five best science fiction novels I’ve ever read. The protagonist of Jumper is a teenager, Davy Rice, who unexpectedly discovers that he can teleport himself. He discovers this as he’s about to be beaten by his drunken, abusive father; the story of what happens next is naturally and wonderfully told. Reflex is the sequel to the 13-year-old Jumper, and it’s every bit as good– if not better.

Davy’s married now and working occasionally for the National Security Agency. When he unexpectedly disappears, his wife Millie (whom you’ll meet in the first novel) sets out to find him, aided by her unexpected discovery that somehow she’s “caught” the ability to teleport from close contact with Davy. A nefarious group has kidnapped him and found an ingenious (and stomach-turning) way to control him (here’s a hint). Of course, Davy’s not inclined to go quietly, and Gould expertly cuts back and forth between his efforts to resist and his wife’s efforts to locate him. Gould is so good at this milieu: his characters are rich and real, their dialogue is crisp and honest, and the technical details he includes are accurate– but he’s content to leave them out when doing so helps the story. This is strictly an action yarn, though; there’s very little philosophical depth, which means Gould misses out on exploring some interesting themes (like whether Davy has a responsibility to use or explore his special ability more than he’s done in the past). The ending is unsurprising; unfortunately, the book just sort of stops, clearly leaving room for a sequel. I just hope that it doesn’t take Gould as long to write it.

Any time a book is advertised in the Wall Street Journal, I make an effort to check it out. This has led to some real treasures (including Finder’s Paranoia, which I need to review on of these days) and this book, which as far as I can tell is Robotham’s first novel. The protagonist is Joe O’Shaughnessy, a British psychiatrist with Parkinson’s disease, a beautiful wife, an adoring daughter, and a problem: the police think he killed a former co-worker.

Robotham spins an extremely complicated plot, but does it so effortlessly that it seems very natural as circumstances unfold. Of course, O’Shaughnessy’s not the real killer, but finding out who is– in time to stay out of jail– takes Joe through a very rapid series of plot twists and turns, including a couple of additional murders for which he’s blamed too. The first third of the book moves slowly, but after that the pace picks up steadily. O’Shaughnessy is a smart and acerbic self-observer, which makes him far more interesting than the typical ordinary-guy-turned-detective. I’ll be looking forward to Robotham’s next book– but this one is highly recommended.

Verizon loaned me an VX6600 to write about. I haven’t used it much, but so far, a few first impressions:

• The ringer volume is way too low. Even at max, I can barely hear it.
• Verizon shipped me the device with an old firmware version on it. As shipped, the phone absolutely refused to recognize my GN6210 Bluetooth headset, either with hands-free or handset profiles; about 80% of the time, it refuses to launch the Bluetooth Manager applet.
• After I updated the firmware, I was able to pair with my 6210 and make and receive calls. I haven’t tested this as much as I want to, but so far it seems to be working well.
• The built-in keyboard doesn’t feel as good as the Treo 650, but it’s better than nothing at all. I think I’ll just have to get used to it.

I’ve been reading a lot lately. Herewith a few quick reviews of my latest.

• Lashner, Fatal Flaw. His other books were much better. Turgid, needlessly convoluted plot and unsympathetic characters. Don’t bother.
• Turtledove, Days of Infamy. What if the Japanese strike at Pearl Harbor had been followed up by an amphibious landing? That’s the central premise of this book, which is well enough written that I slogged through the exceptionally slow first 2/3rds of it. I hope the next book in this series (because there will be one, no doubt) is a little snappier.
• Silva, Prince of Fire. Five stars and then some. Silva is, for my money, the best thriller writer in the business (with Barry Eisler a close second). Rich characters with complex motivations, rapid plotting, and a thorough mastery of both storytelling and the political and social forces that underlie the characters’ actions. Highly recommended.
• Lefcourt, The Deal. I only read this because our library didn’t have The Manhattan Beach Project yet. This was supposed to be a satire of 1990s Hollywood, but it felt contrived and lacked the edge that’s so important to pulling off a satire. Maybe it would have been better in 1992 or so. Not especially recommended.
• Gaiman, American Gods. Why, oh why, did I wait so long to read this? Superb.