Book 23: Fables: 1001 Nights of Snowfall

Fables: 1001 Nights of Snowfall

Bill Willingham, et al.

After reading the first volume of collected Fables comics, I dove into this anthology, which rewinds the general narrative a bit and takes a look at some main players before the events in the main story began. Though it was published between two later volumes from the main plot line, and though I had only read one major story arc, I found myself immediately engrossed in the stories and, more importantly, in the characters. This, of course, is no accident, as the whole premise of the Fables series is that, well, we know the characters already, or are at least familiar with their oft-told stories. What is remarkable, however, is how coherently these tales hang together and how seamlessly they play off of the familiar histories. As Bill Willingham writes in his introduction, there is very little internal Fables backstory necessary to enjoy these stories and to understand their greater implications. And for those familiar with Willingham's re-tellings, these short stories not only continue the tradition of re-thinking fairy tales and legends, but also play off of future events and characterizations readers will already know. Just about anyone could pick this book up without having any idea that Fables actually existed, and still enjoy the storytelling, artwork, and overall narrative effect. The idea of re-hashing well-known stories certainly isn't new, and the trope's recent popularity has forced would-be re-inventors to reach sufficient levels of depth and originality; 1001 Nights of Snowfall does this, and does it in spades, all while remaining accessible and providing an entry point for new readers.

One reason why Fables is so intriguing is its use of a greater narrative framework both within this collection and around the individual stories that take place within the universe. This clever development allows characters from a thousand different fantasy realms and human cultures to interact and, indeed, to cooperate. It is this rich background that allows the Fables mythology to exist, and it is this catastrophic turn of events that provides the narrative impetus for each of the stories within this collection. The collection itself is bound by its own narrative arc that benefits a bit from knowledge of the modern-day Fables setting, but this knowledge only adds a bit of a knowing nod rather than being essential to the stories. Each story focuses on a character or characters from our well-known folk tales, and most offer a Fables-specific rethinking of the classic tale, though the opener is a straightforward, modern-day reevaluation of the typical Snow White story, a bit tedious perhaps given the current inundation of Snow White reboots, but refreshing and modern nonetheless. The other stories are just familiar enough to make readers comfortable, yet original enough to present something new and, often, emotionally riveting.

What is most remarkable, however, is that a collection with such strong plotting, if not particularly riveting dialogue, has another strength completely: its art. Graphic novel skeptics should be immediately convinced by the stunning array of artistic talent on display within. The short story format allows a number of artists to lend their eyes and sensibilities to Willingham's innovations, and it is delightful to see how different artists envision these classic characters and how their styles affect the storytelling- and reading- experience. And skeptics take heart: only one story is illustrated in what one might call a typical superhero style, and each story's visual experience is entirely different, making for refreshing changes of pace as well as thoughtful re-calibrations for each story. The differences serve to highlight the ways in which these are at once familiar and entirely new approaches to traditional characters. While each illustrator adds a distinctive flair to their particular tale, James Jean's art for "A Frog's-Eye View," the Frog Prince's tale, is truly transcendent. The muted palette and thick black borders combine with the characters' sheer desperation to create a formidable argument for the power of graphic narrative. The story, so unapologetically tragic, reaches a new depth of meaning through Jean's art, and while the other art is far from merely serviceable, it is this story that stands above the rest. Though none of the other stories quite reach this formidable level of synchronicity between narration, dialogue, and art, 1001 Nights of Snowfall offers nicely varied re-thinkings of well-known tales, one that simultaneously enhances the established Fables universe and offers entertainment for newcomers.

Grade: A

Book 22: Fables: Legends in Exile

Fables: Legends in Exile

Bill Willingham and Lan Medina

Fairy tale re-tellings have been a popular genre recently, but Bill Willingham's Fables graphic novel series appeared slightly ahead of the curve, both in time and in skill. It is obvious from the beginning that Willingham has constructed a fictional universe that extends far beyond this story, a functional detective narrative whose novelty lies far more in character than in plot. Though the plot, such as it is, is fairly straightforward, it is a brilliant way to introduce a wide cast of characters who will presumably take center stage in following installments. As a typical detective story, it is well constructed with plenty of twists to hold readers' interests, a functional and firmly defined narrative in which to place and develop unusual elements. Also wise is Willingham's choice to put familiar characters Snow White and the Big Bad Wolf on center stage, allowing readers to glide into this parallel reality with relative ease, while allowing the authors to highlight their chosen deviations from the traditional stories. Character development is key in Fables, and it is truly delightful to tag along with Willingham's modern, realistic re-imagining of these familiar faces, of whom Prince Charming, it must be said, is the pinnacle. Recasting the prince as a vapid and self-serving frat-boy type is fitting and insightful and inserts an element of humor into an otherwise fairly grim (ha) murder story. What is remarkable about Fables is not any of its singular elements- the dialogue, plotting, and art are all on the functional side- but the way in which they combine to create an enticing and believable world, populated with characters that are at once familiar, exotic, and new. The art is sufficient, done in a more traditional comic book style that suits the narrative well enough to stay out of the way and allow for efficient storytelling. The collected volume is also accompanied by a short story from Willingham, and though his prose leaves much to be desired, the story fleshes out some of the backstory without clogging the main narrative line, which contains just enough history to entice and explain but not enough to overwhelm the current plot. Fables: Legends in Exile is a great debut, a comic that presupposes only a basic introduction to western culture and fairy tales and one that shows remarkable restraint in creating a novel narrative fabric that will entice readers to read subsequent volumes.

Grade: A

Book 21: Marking Time

Marking Time: The Epic Quest to Invent the Perfect Calendar

Duncan Steel

Calendars and timekeeping systems may seem at first an odd choice of subject for a book, but upon further reflection, few things impact our daily lives more strongly than time. After all, each workday begins with the tolling of a bell and the hands of the clock govern much more than we would probably like to admit. Thus is Duncan Steel's attempt at an accessible history of calendars and, to a lesser extent, time itself most welcome. Unfortunately, Steel, while apparently being an expert in his field, is also one of the most pompous, peacocks it has ever been my misfortune to read. There is good information buried deep within his purple prose, but the authorial presence is so strong within this book that I defy anyone to put up with more than a few pages before wishing to throw it and begin screaming. A harsh assessment, perhaps, but one that I think is more than justified for many reasons. First, I don't think Mr. Steel is intentionally off-putting, and I'm inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. However, his attempts to strike up a conversational tone with readers fall flat at best and encourage, well, unseemly thoughts at worst. Where he attempts to be conversational, he comes across only as condescending, time and again reminding his readers that it is he, indeed, who is the expert and, by the way, did you do your homework?

For Steel is not merely content to cram his narrative as chock-full of alienating math as possible (after an infuriating attempt at sarcasm denouncing the very notion of arithmetic-laden popular works!), but he has included three appendices that go into far greater depth about concepts which are, in fact, crucial to an understanding of the book. This causes several problems. First is his irritating assertion in an introductory chapter that the following concepts will be beyond the poor, pitiable reader's feeble mind unless we refer to his appendices. This, however, is usurped entirely by later passages that accuse readers of skipping the so-called "supplementary" information. If this additional information, which is indeed difficult to grasp for the mathematical layperson, is so necessary, why didn't the author or, perish the thought, the editor plunk it down in the middle of the narrative? Or why not craft a book that is actually accessible to the uninformed public, as is the stated assertion? This hints at a greater problem: the book is woefully organized, with non-sequitur pieces of unrelated trivia becoming sadly expected- though no less groan-worthy- because of their constant infiltration. The idea of introducing a complex concept by outlining the following theses and main points, which Steel maddeningly finds necessary to explain in and of itself, is admirable but highly unnecessary in a book with well-labeled chapters and named subsections. All it serves is to bore readers with a kind of repetition that is rampant throughout the book, wherein examples are flogged to death in multiple chapters and ideas are dropped simply because they might- but usually don't- fit better in another chapter. This makes the book extremely disjointed, and readers have to stop and reset almost every time a new idea is approached; this, despite the fact that hardly any of the ideas are new by the time Steel deigns to actually explain them in any depth.

All of this, plus the inexcusable condescension in nearly every sentence and abundance of insulting exclamation points, makes the book nearly unreadable. Should one venture beyond the language, there is some valuable historical and scientific information to be had, though woe betide the poor scholar tempted to wrangle with Steel's idea of a historical argument. He may be, and apparently is, a brilliant scientist, but a historian capable of convincing argumentation he is not, a problem that directly impacts many of his frankly bizarre historical assertions. There may be a hint of truth to the idea that the date of Easter was a major sticking point between the Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox churches, and I am inclined to trust his retro-calculation of the possible date of Jesus's birth, but the assertion that the English wished to colonize Virginia because it lies on some sort of magical latitude line is so patently absurd and poorly supported that I actually laughed out loud, even after hearing him out. Coincidences may provide fodder for interesting and even heretical thoughts, but Steel seems so focused on his novel hypothesis that he ignores, oh, pretty much every other hint of historical context. Mix this with his obvious contempt for religion, and it's difficult to take him quite so seriously, bringing us back to a preening narrative with very little actual substance. I wanted to like this book. Oh, how I wanted to enjoy the book and, perhaps, learn something. I hate to be so harsh but, unfortunately, Making Time is so heavily clogged with the author's unfriendly self-awareness that it is nearly useless in a practical sense, with every possible redeeming quality mercilessly squeezed out by needless pompousness and unrelated trivia.

Grade: D+

Book 20: Doomsday Book

Doomsday Book

Connie Willis

Connie Willis pulled out all the stops for this dynamo of a novel, utilizing such ordinarily disparate elements as a post-quasi-apocalypse near future, a deadly contagion, and time travel. Yet though its narrative action is divided between two fairly disparate temporal settings, Doomsday Book maintains a fairly urgent sense of suspense, a remarkable feat to accomplish in any 550-page book. Though there are times when the pace slows considerably, Willis is careful to pull back and switch settings, always seeming to change just when the current story becomes the slightest bit tiresome or when the reader begins to get curious about the concurrent story. Willis also does a good job of handling narrative synchronicity, vital when juggling stories that take place in a future present and in the Middle Ages, where an intrepid time traveler has managed to go while on winter holiday at Oxford. Though any time travel system has its peculiar quirks, the one in this particular book has its rules fairly clearly outlined early enough that readers are inclined to believe it, and to accept a strange intertwining of past and present events, which crucially move along at a similar rate. And though the thematic link between the historical destination and the future is more obvious than insightful, it packs a dramatic wallop. Willis also explores the potential difficulties faced by a time traveler and- not so subtly, mind- highlights some of the necessary impossibilities faced by any historians, allowing her temporal voyage to highlight both the differences and similarities between our times and those past. That she manages to do this without becoming preachy is a testament to the author's restraint and, in another way, to the strength of her characters. Not everyone is likeable, but these seem to be living humans, not caricatures, and they all serve their respective purposes superbly. Even more remarkable is the strength of the medieval characters, and the author's ability to make them seem both of their times and relatable to ours, again without too much pomp or undue over-attention. Though the story can seem to drag at times, the book simultaneously seems to read quickly, and the accelerated pace of the third book is much appreciated after a not-so-suspenseful attempt at a Big Reveal. Regardless, everything about the book is executed nicely, with effective prose and obvious- and appreciated- deliberation. Doomsday Book can be a bit of a slog in the middle, but it is a remarkably executed hybrid novel well deserving of its many accolades.

Grade: A-

Book 19: Mockingjay

Mockingjay

Suzanne Collins

I'm not sure whether it's easy or incredibly difficult to properly follow up on such a prominent and well-written series as the Hunger Games books, but in Mockingjay Suzanne Collins suitably, if not brilliantly, wraps up the loose ends and brings the series to what feels like an inevitable, but appropriate, conclusion. We rejoin our heroes a while after the cliffhanger, revelatory, but ultimately unsurprising ending of Catching Fire, where they're firmly embedded in a typical dystopian good-versus-evil plot. Though much of this book, like its predecessors, operates in a highly simplified moral fabric, Collins mercifully throws an ambiguous wrench in the operation, forcing readers to re-think things a bit and, by the end, everything becomes far from simple. Though she is far from a master of subtlety, Collins is able to construct characters and a plot with considerable depth. Much appreciated is her handling of the books' central romantic triangle, which resolves itself in an incredibly realistic way. These things seldom escape the feeling that they are forced upon the characters in question, and to have teenagers acting like actual teenagers, but also like themselves, is refreshing. Also refreshing is the author's continuing willingness to utilize brutal violence: she has placed Katniss and company in the middle of a brutal war for control over Panem, and she does not shy away from the implications of this. The violence, however, almost always feels necessary to advance the plot or enhance character development, and though the book strangely drags despite its internal sense of urgency, nothing feels terribly misplaced within. The result, then, is a sometimes contemplative, sometimes high-octane conclusion that is ultimately satisfying, if a bit simplistic and, like its companions, predictable. The series is, as a whole, remarkably consistent, with no precipitous decline (or increase) in quality, though the same problems seem to surface within each book, as do their strengths. Mockingjay successfully resumes and concludes the Hunger Games trilogy, providing a satisfactory ending without straying too far from the first two books' best qualities or most frustrating faults.

Grade: A-

Book 18: Catching Fire

Catching Fire

Suzanne Collins

So, how best to follow up a reasonably self-contained bestseller about such a dismal future that it requires children to fight to the death annually for the happy consumption of an unbelievably coddled ruling class? Readers of The Hunger Games or any of its cousins in the world of literary dystopias won't be particularly surprised at the twists Collins takes in Catching Fire, but the sequel is suitably grim and maintains a sufficient, if tenuous, grip on originality to make it enjoyable, if slightly un-challenging. We open, suitably enough, a while after the events of the first book have had a chance to create new tensions across Panem, and though this forces Collins to tell much of the intervening story through flashbacks, it allows heroine (and narrator) Katniss to jump directly into the thick of things, again employing the urgent present tense narration that drives the story along though it is prone to second-book stagnation. The story fits nicely alongside that of the first book, and the particular plot point that occupies much of the book's second half presents a finely pointed jab at the dystopian Capitol's rule that oh-so-carefully treads the line between surprisingly subtle and just a tad too obvious

Just like its predecessor, however, Catching Fire displays the author's frankly disturbing talent for cooking up sadistic twists and turns, again much appreciated in a young adult novel that does not shrink away from displaying the full, nasty range of human capabilities. The central conceits of the 75th Hunger Games, both the special quality shared by its participants and the arena itself, are captivating, even if the grand climax and, indeed, the general progress of the plot, leaves a bit to be desired. There are, of course, heart-pounding, gut-wrenching moments that fully captivate readers, and they may more make up for those that seem merely convenient. The teenage leads are predictably emotional, yet realistic enough to prevent any severe resentment by the reader. Katniss does succumb at times to the whiny, wishy-washy kind of teenage girl one expects, but Collins knows how to maintain dramatic tension and character development without allowing anything, or anyone, to get too carried away. And thus, the love story at the heart of much of Catching Fire rings true. Katniss is flawed, and a bit nearsighted, but she seems, above all, real. Whether this makes her likable or callous is another debate, but she is certainly complex and multi-dimensional, and she more than makes up for the occasional one-dimensionality of her supporting cast. And despite the occasional feeling that Panem is populated by stock characters, a few simply leap off of the page, with unexpected complexity developing from unexpected directions and stagnation, sadly, stalling in some quarters where development is sorely needed. Catching Fire is a worthy follow-up to its predecessor, sacrificing a bit of nuance for screen-ready simplicity but satisfying nonetheless, despite the final pages' indications that the series is headed for groan-worthy predictability.

Grade: A-

Book 17: The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games

Suzanne Collins

With a recent hit movie adaptation and its appearance as a mega-seller in the post-Harry Potter void, it's hard to miss The Hunger Games. I admit I approached the book with the degree of skepticism I often reserve for the extremely popular, but I needn't have worried: these books are popular for a reason, and damned addictive besides. Heroine Katniss proves an efficient, if not entirely likable or observant, narrator, and the choice of first-person present not only adds a hint of urgency to this battle for survival, but also underscores the constant threat of death (and doom) that looms over the book. This is especially appropriate as Collins thankfully pulls very few punches, and manages to weave those she does seamlessly into the narrative, using them as crucial plot points that will shape the remainder of the trilogy. That this is a young adult book does not doom it to back out of its startlingly brutal, violent premise. Indeed, the author's willingness to stick to the battle royale rules she initially established is fully appreciated, and gives the book far more emotional power than a love-fest might have possessed. Collins ensures that readers knows just how high the stakes are, and though the progression of events is somewhat predictable, it always fits the story, with enough original elements and compelling world-building to ensure that it stands apart. In fact, one of my biggest complaints about the book is the fact that Katniss is so stunningly blind, and occasionally inconsistently so, planting ideas about the dystopian Capitol's inherent flaws but then seeming to forget them at the author's convenience. Katniss is refreshingly competent and blunt, but though her teenage romantic fickleness is portrayed to precision, she is sometimes just a tad too thick for the story she's telling, at once aware of her place in the grand scheme of things and entirely ignorant of anything outside of herself. This is somewhat forgivable given her murder-or-be-murdered circumstances, but it occasionally yanks readers out of the otherwise engrossing book. Along with its effective characters and compelling, if unoriginal, plot, Collins has serious author's chops, seamlessly weaving expository passages into the story and effectively utilizing metaphor without pandering either to an exalted or dumbed-down audience. Add in a thrill-a-minute pace, and The Hunger Games is absolutely deserving of its accolades and success, a worthy and surprisingly well-written opener to the rampaging bestsellers.

Grade: A

Book 16: Detroit Noir

Detroit Noir

Edited by E. J. Olsen and John C. Hocking

Detroit seems, on the face of it, the perfect location for a geographically-oriented collection of noir stories, with its story of industrial powerhouse riches gone to rags and its resurgence blighted by, well, the blight. It's the perfect setting for dark humor, detectives, and a life of crime. What a shame, then, that even as so many stories in Detroit Noir absolutely nail the atmosphere- a happy consequence, I suspect, of using local writers or writers who had actually lived in the city- they tend toward the mediocre, with only a few simultaneously delivering on plot, characters, and atmosphere. One standout belongs unequivocally to perennial powerhouse Joyce Carol Oates, whose story "Panic" brilliantly nails the titular emotion but which relies only slightly on a Detroit location to do so. Regardless, the story is a fast paced and surprisingly effective litfic character study, not hampered by its artistry and living up, in my opinion, to the author's sky-high standards. And though many stories do not particularly satisfy on the noir front per se, a lack of outright darkness hardly hampers a story like "The Coffee Break," which hearkens back to Detroit in happier economic times. "The Lost Tiki Palaces of Detroit" similarly nails the nostalgic notes, using them as a reflective device rather than battering the image of abandoned skyscrapers into readers' minds, as so many of the other efforts do. And though the more hipster side of the city is, understandably, muted within these pages, Roger K. Johnson's "Hey Love" is a stunningly powerful study of the impact of Motown, a spark of hope and brilliance the city can cling to among the depleted landscapes against which so many other narratives play out.

Among these, the one that best nails a traditional noir atmosphere and lead detective is Loren D. Estleman's "Kill the Cat." Opening the collection with a standard grittiness, the story whiffs a bit on an unexplained motive and plodding plot, but absolutely nails the feel of the endeavor. Likewise, "The Night Watchman Is Asleep," by E. J. Olsen, uses the city's apparent corruption and reputation to fuel a narrative as seen through the outsider, an effective technique delivered within a compelling story and brutal, yet appropriate conclusion. Also happily unflinching is P. J. Parrish's "Pride," undoubtedly the book's best story. The protagonist is just well-enough fleshed out that readers are intrigued, but is vaguely enough constructed to allow for maximum sympathy, which is essential as the story moves quickly toward a powerful, and inevitable, conclusion. The story brilliantly encapsulates the strange mixture of bleakness and hope that, in their strange combination, truly define modern Detroit, and its surprisingly gotcha ending only adds to the murkiness. Also unexpectedly effective is Megan Abbott's "Our Eyes Couldn't Stop Opening," a coming of age story that diverges from expectation at just the right moments, told occasionally in a convincing third-person-plural, and hitting just the right notes to reinforce the idea that Detroit can defy expectations, and that noir needn't be discovered in the expected places. Nothing in Detroit Noir is revolutionary, and many stories struggle just to reach "pretty good," but though many do settle for wincingly similar descriptions of the crumbling landscape, none are truly terrible and a few rise above to deliver powerful narrative experiences.

Grade: B

Book 15: Stories of Your Life and Others

Stories of Your Life and Others

Ted Chiang

Despite my never having heard of him, Ted Chiang is apparently a hot commodity in the world of science fiction, with ecstatic blurbs promising that his is a collection not to be missed. Though Chiang has a stunning array of intriguing ideas and competent control of his prose, he seems to aim just a tad too high, taking too many tips from the handbook of boring-but-lauded mainstream litfic writers and taking too little inspiration from the wide-eyed wonders of science fiction's past. His ideas, rather than being elevated by moving prose, are stymied by a capitulation to the current move toward pretentious artistry that dooms stories to be devoid of meaning. Its as if Chiang takes his mind-boggling ideas and strips them of all potential to cater to a different crowd, and it's a shame, really, because if he let his ideas roll around a bit and actually had some fun with them, "Stories of Your Life and Others" would go from a collection of interesting stories driven by wonderful ideas to the mind-blowing promise implied on its covers. Not every attempt is a swing and a miss, though, and Chiang's inventiveness and blending of litfic prose traditions and sci-fi ideas does create some memorable moments. "Tower of Babylon" evokes a realistic vision of what the magnificent tower may have looked like in a very realistic ancient Babylon, and though its twist is a bit difficult to comprehend, the setting drives the story to a satisfactory, if slightly baffling, conclusion. Where "Understand" loses its narrative steam somewhere amidst its attempt to explore different consequences of superintelligence, "Division By Zero" barely registers on the science fiction radar, using a scientific concept to deftly explore the meaning of our conceptual frameworks of the world- and what happens when those unexpectedly collapse. Here is a brilliant story on the edge of genre, a vision of science and its implications for the human spirit, a story that reaches the heights Chiang so clearly aspires to, and so often misses, in the other pieces.

There are other periodic sparks of brilliance, such as the hard-science linguistics and effective parallel narration at play in "Story of Your Life," which exhibits Chiang's remarkable scientific versatility. For all of its faults, the collection does truly boast a stunningly diverse array of possibilities, from the religiously-fueled alternate history golem robots (both cooler and more lame than that sounds, oddly) of "Seventy-Two Letters" to the brain surgery proposed in "Liking What You See: A Documentary." Though the author's endnotes imply that I would disagree with his own conclusion about the story, he happily sticks to his well-deployed interview format (think World War Z) and keeps his controversial beauty-blinding procedure at the crux of various arguments, rather than the polemic it could have easily become. Likewise, "Hell Is the Absence of God" works in subtlety, where it could have deployed many forceful bludgeons. The fantasy element is excellent, and it is an much appreciated intelligent treatment of religion that manages to remain somewhat neutral, though readers may read a pro- or anti-religious bias into the story according to their own notions. Ted Chiang may aim high in this collection, but though he sometimes succumbs to the perils of overwriting and losing the plot, Stories of Your Life and Others is a solid collection of forward-thinking science fiction that displays a range of the author's talents.

Grade: B+

Book 14: A Night to Remember

A Night to Remember

Walter Lord

As a major fan of the 1997 movie, I couldn't let the 100th anniversary of the Titanic's sinking go by unnoticed, and I considered Walter Lord's classic post-sinking recap A Night to Remember a good place to start. From the start, it's obvious that the author did his homework: the book is built on a solid research foundation, though a number of inconsistencies in survivors' testimonies prove that the memory is fragile as a source of fact. Lord, however, wisely does not shy away from this fact, and though he tends to put the vast majority of his faith in these tales, 40 years old or more, he has few other options and does choose to briefly address the issues, though he quickly returns to parroting firsthand accounts. The main problem with the book, then, is not in the potential flaws in its story, unavoidable in an age without mobile video and in a story that has only its survivors available to tell the tale, but rather in its execution, for which Lord can be rightfully blamed. Faced with a huge number of precious firsthand anecdotes and primary documents about one of the most fascinating stories of the post-Gilded Era, one that in many ways serves as a microcosm of the whole period, Lord resorts to a bored, stifled prose driven not by narrative force but by his need to add just one more interesting tidbit. While we do follow certain survivors and famous casualties around the ship on that fateful night, the story (such as it is) doesn't so much "begin" or "open" as "commence," and the tragedies are reduced to newsflash microparagraphs, with related story after related story hitting in such quick succession that they quickly blend together. The effects can occasionally prove haunting, as a rapid-fire freeze frame of a crucial moment, but the entire night is reduced to a string of bite-sized pieces, dehumanized through too-intense magnification. What's worse, Lord butchers his attempt to place the sinking in its historical and historiographic contexts, placing his ruminative comments neither at the beginning nor end of the text, but rather right between the sinking and the rescue by the Carpathia. This dilutes the effect of the story, rather than enhancing it in the way I presume Lord intended, and though his thoughts are coherent and his points poignant, they get lost amidst the suspense of the suspended narrative. Nonetheless, while many of the finer points will be handily recognized by fans of Cameron's movie, the book is worth reading and does provide some moving insight into the sinking. Walter Lord is a capable writer, if not a particularly compelling one, and the story never stagnates of wallows, though it sometimes proceeds too rapidly to be truly effective. It is a bare-bones story told adequately but without exceptional literary skill. A Night to Remember is a solid condensing of survivor stories from one of the world's most captivating shipwrecks, and a good place to start for those looking for a firsthand glimpse of the ship's final, fateful hours.

Grade: B+