Just finished:
Truman, Margaret. Murder in the CIA. (Pub. info., who cares?)
A twenty year-old murder-spy mystery. Ye gads! On the one hand, I tend to criticize the genre; to the other, I rarely read it. The book was given to me in a box purged from a neighbor's library. I decided to give it a read. Ms. Truman must have been signed for name recognition; it would be inaccurate to say she cannot write, since she obviously can undertake the function of writing. But the notion that this book was at one time a bestseller in the U.S. only testifies to the sad results of American literacy. I just don't get it; I refused to read Shatner's
Tek- series, based not on the covers but on the first pages. This was worse than I expected of Captain Kirk. Ms. Truman's book serves me as a stern warning that the genre should be avoided strenuously. Television is better for the brain than this crap.
Brust, Steven. Dzur. New York: TOR, 2006.
Now
here is a writer that can make a genre worth paying attention to. It's not that I have anything specifically against fantasy, but the genre usually doesn't suit me. Brust, however, is good enough to transcend such considerations; the guy can tell a story. And what a story it is. Those who have followed his Taltos cycle will not be disappointed. Teldra Lives! (And no, that's not spoiler info.)
Currently reading:
Kenan, Randall. Let the Dead Bury Their Dead. New York: Harvest, 1993.
I'm reacquainting myself with this collection of linked short fiction. While the jacket copy compares the stories to Faulkner, I tend more toward Harper Lee and Alice Walker. Find it. Read it. Sublimely excellent. These are stories that turn fiction into a kind of heritage: no, you don't experience foreign lands reading adventure novels, but you
do get a glimpse into the southern black experience (U.S.) that is not easily forgotten. Genuine, moving, artful.