Investigating the Mystery of the Phantom of the Opera

On March 14, 2012March 12, 2012 By cherylmahoneyIn Historical Fiction, Reviews2 Comments

My January post about the Phantom of the Opera inspired me to buy and reread Sam Siciliano’s Angel of the Opera. I last read it six or seven years ago, but I find my feeling toward it was much the same this time–and it’s an odd, odd feeling. When I look at the disparate elements of the book, I dislike far too much. And yet somehow, taken as a whole, I enjoyed the book. Baffling!

It may be the premise. Sherlock Holmes meets the Phantom of the Opera; I love both of them in their original forms, so it’s hard to resist a cross-over. People I tell about this seem to have trouble picturing the two stories coming together, but it actually makes a certain amount of sense. The premise is that the managers of the Opera are deeply distressed by this Ghost business (as they are in every version), and decide to hire a very famous London detective to come investigate–Mr. Holmes. Holmes arrives in Paris and goes exploring through the Opera in an effort to work out the mystery of the Phantom. Siciliano also makes much of Holmes’ love of music (which is an element in Arthur Conan Doyle) and that ties things together in an extra way too.

If only that clever emphasis on Holmes’ love of music had been part of a broader, equally clever portrayal of Holmes. But there’s where we begin to have problems. This book begins very, very badly. Watson has been booted from the scene and we have a new and original narrator, Holmes’ cousin, Henry Vernier. The second sentence of the book reads, “My purpose at the time was to reveal the real Sherlock Holmes as corrective to the ridiculous fictional creation of John Watson.”

Ouch. I mean, really, ouch. Henry goes on in this way for a couple of pages, maligning poor Dr. Watson and discounting Watson and Holmes’ friendship, then peppers the rest of the book with occasional caustic references to Watson and his writing, both from Henry and, even more painfully, from Holmes. It’s always a chancy business trying to write another author’s characters, and frankly, if you’re going to attempt it, you had better approach the original with a great deal of respect, bordering on reverence. It’s hard to believe that Siciliano even likes Doyle’s stories.

The particularly stupid part is that I don’t think all this added anything or was at all necessary. Henry is pointless as an original character. He fills exactly the same role as Watson, right down to being a doctor, and I nearly forgot at times that he wasn’t Watson. Other than a fear of heights and occasional musing about whether he ought to marry a girl he’s been courting, he has very little personality to add. And Holmes is almost Holmes, but not quite. Siciliano plays around a bit, and not to Holmes’ advantage. His attitudes towards women and religion are mucked about with, and his deduction skills are not shown to any great advantage. He doesn’t do much of the “I saw a telltale clue and drew 14 conclusions from it” that Holmes is so well-known for. He does figure out a lot about the Phantom, but it all seems like fairly obvious details–although I admit, Holmes doesn’t have my advantage of familiarity with some 14 versions of the story to help him along. Anyway, the whole thing ultimately comes off like Siciliano realized he couldn’t quite write Doyle’s Holmes, or that Doyle’s Holmes didn’t quite fit his novel, and decided he’d better come up with an excuse for the differences.

He does better with the Phantom side of things. This is plainly based on Leroux, not Webber–Raoul’s brother is in the story (delightfully awful), Meg Giry has dark hair, several minor characters from Leroux are at least mentioned, and there’s just an overall atmosphere of Leroux. That actually may be my favorite part. Siciliano brings the Opera, with all its confusing passages and dark cellars, to life in a wonderful, fascinating way. It really may be the atmosphere that carries this book more than anything else.

The Phantom characters were better handled than the Holmes ones too. Siciliano wrote what is probably the most annoying Raoul I’ve ever seen (which is saying something) and his Christine is a nice mix of well-meaning and flighty childishness. The managers, Carlotta and Madame Giry are well-portrayed. And I thought he did well with the Phantom (although we don’t see him as more than a shadow until two-thirds into the book). He’s dark, complex, a musical genius, and I actually really enjoyed Holmes’ insight into the Phantom. And points for getting his name right–Erik. Such a simple thing that is so rarely done correctly. Siciliano does slip on one character–like Watson, he maligns the poor Persian, who was the most heroic figure in Leroux but here is dark and villianous and (metaphorically) drenched in blood.

The plot is all right. Holmes and Henry poke around on the edges of the plotline of The Phantom of the Opera, trying to unravel the mystery. Siciliano doesn’t really add much, but neither does he do any harm to it.

So–decent plot, well-done Phantom characters, excellent atmosphere, poorly-done Holmes, pointless original narrator. And there is one more original character who absolutely gives me fits. There’s a mostly-irrelevant prologue, where Holmes and Henry are tying up an unrelated case, and in the midst of it they get a telegram about the Paris Opera situation. The main point, though, seems to be to introduce Susan Lowell. She lives in Wales, is half-British and half-Indian, and is despised by society for her mixed-race status. She’s all alone in the world. She’s very beautiful, but for a variety of reasons has always thought that she was very ugly. And she’s completely brilliant musically. Is this obvious enough yet? It gets better. She’s blind.

Well now. A novel with a musically-brilliant deformed man features a completely superflous musically-brilliant blind girl. I wonder where that could possibly be going? Honestly, I am all in favor of the Phantom getting over Christine, and if that means writing a new character to suit, fine, no problem, go to it. But at least be a bit more subtle about it! I also think it oversimplifies to assume that falling in love with a blind girl would solve all of the Phantom’s problems. I’m convinced that Erik’s problem is not really that he’s ugly–it’s that he knows he’s ugly, and is convinced of his own unworthiness as a consequence.

But that is a long and complex discussion. Suffice to say here, this book would be better off and far less obvious without the prologue or the epilogue–even if that meant leaving off a basically happy ending.

So where do I wind up in the end? I don’t know. I like some parts of this book. I dislike a lot of very key parts. And I enjoy it overall. Draw your own conclusions from that. I hear there’s another Holmes-meets-the-Phantom book out there, and I am definitely going to check that out to see if it does any better!

Author’s Site: http://samsiciliano.net/

Other reviews:
Better Holmes and Gardens (I love that title!)
My Den
Anyone else?

Lost on Mars with John Carter, and Four-Armed Green Martians

On March 12, 2012March 19, 2012 By cherylmahoneyIn Reviews, Science Fiction6 Comments

Regular readers know that one of my favorite authors is Edgar Rice Burroughs–so I was both eager and wary regarding the new movie inspired by his Mars series, John Carter. Fortunately, in the end I think it was a well-handled retelling of Burroughs’ A Princess of Mars. They took a few liberties, as filmmakers will, but the spirit was good.

Mars Books — My Burroughs Mars Collection

The plot was essentially accurate to the book. John Carter of Virginia is a Civil War veteran who goes out west prospecting. Out in the wilderness, he finds himself mysteriously transported to a new wilderness, with a red tint. He eventually realizes he’s on Mars (Barsoom), where he meets the Tharks, giant green men with tusks and four arms (Burroughs was the first to have green Martians, incidentally). It isn’t long before he also encounters the beautiful Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium. Not green and without tusks, she’s a member of the red Martians, who look human apart from red skin. Adventures involving swordfights, epic battles and a villain intent on marrying Dejah Thoris quite naturally ensue.

The movie kept all of that from the book, along with many other details, although they also threw in some extra bits. I can only conclude that they felt they had to explain John Carter’s transportation, which Burroughs never does. Part of me loves it that John Carter just looked at Mars and wished and was there, but I can see how the filmmakers felt they needed to give a more complete explanation. So they introduced the Therns, priests of the Martian goddess Issus, who have medallions which allow them to transport between worlds; one of the medallions takes John Carter on his journey. The Therns also tie the plot together a bit more, by giving a weapon to Helium’s enemies and presiding over the resulting destruction. They’re brought up in the first five minutes of the movie and gave me a few bad moments–but I felt better once their mysterious goddess was named as Issus, because then I could place them. Issus and the Therns show up (albeit in a different capacity) in the second Mars book.

I’m generally much more forgiving of movies making changes if they also demonstrate that they really, really know their source material. Anybody who can get all the minor characters’ names right and very carefully depicts Martian animals according to Burroughs’ descriptions has earned the right to tweak things a little–and I think it was essentially effective, once I figured out what they were trying to do.

The characterization was well-handled. They gave John Carter (Taylor Kitsch) a tragic past, to create a character who was lost in more ways than one when he lands on Mars. He was a bit surly for a Burroughs hero, but they got a little of the Southern gentleman in, and his prowess in battle was perfect. In a strange way, my favorite moment may have been when he turns to face an oncoming horde of hostile Tharks, buying time for the fleeing Dejah Thoris. It’s straight out of the book, and only a Burroughs hero could plunge into an oncoming army, alone, armed only with a sword, and come out of it alive. I’ve heard it commented before that the biggest mystery of the Mars books is how the South ever lost the Civil War when they had John Carter on their side. The scene was well-shot too, splicing battle shots with flashes of John Carter’s past, and piling up the bodies without being grotesque (more on that in a moment).

I also enjoyed Dejah Thoris (Lynn Collins). Heroines are not usually Burroughs’ strong point. She was always beautiful, but she was never much else. The movie made her both smarter and tougher. Dejah Thoris the scientist throws me for a loop a little, but Dejah Thoris the swordfighter is pretty much awesome.

The more minor characters were well-done too, particularly among the green Martians. Tars Tarkas, John Carter’s green Martian friend, was excellent, as was Sola, a more sympathetic green Martian female. The green Martians were all CGI and there were excellent effects throughout. I avoided seeing this in 3D so I don’t know how that would change things, but in 2D the effects were convincing, for creatures and landscapes and technology. I thought the green Martians all looked a bit scrawny for a warrior race, but they did wonderful things with the four arms. I also absolutely loved Woola, John Carter’s dog-monster. He was delightful, and added some comedy. Comedy is not really one of Burroughs’ strong points either, but the movie got some good moments in.

On the whole, I thought the movie picked up as it went. The opening on Earth was not as interesting (although big points for including John Carter’s nephew, a fictionalized Edgar Rice Burroughs, who’s included in a foreword in the book) but it got better on Mars, and eventually accelerated to some wonderful epic battles and excitement by the end. That was done perfectly and completely in the spirit of the books. Burroughs wrote about men who lived by their swords, who would fight their way literally through armies and across planets, have clashes featuring casts of thousands and deaths of hundreds–but he wrote it all with a Victorian sensibility that never dwelled on the blood, and was never gruesome or disturbing. This movie managed to do the same thing.

This is one of the biggest reasons I’ve always been wary of a movie version–the blood, and also Dejah Thoris’ clothes, or lack thereof to be precise. Burroughs wrote about plenty of scantily clad women, but again, with a Victorian sensibility that kept it all very clean. It would be very easy to make a movie with half-naked women and disturbing fight sequences, technically accurate to the book but not at all in the right spirit (and nothing I’d want to see, though I’m sure that would have a market too). So I was so relieved to know that this was being produced by Disney; it even opens with a red-tinted view of the Disney castle logo. I figured they’d do it right, and they did. Dejah Thoris’ costume designer seemed to be looking at the same book covers I have; the princess was scantily clad (and for that matter, John Carter spent plenty of time shirtless) but somehow it didn’t feel exploitative either.

So, to sum: good characters, good effects, good Burroughsian spirit. A few changes but acceptable ones. If they do a sequel (and they always do sequels of action features, right?) I’ll be watching it. I hear it’s not doing well at the box office, but we’ll see!

And in the meantime, there are so many exciting movies coming out this month! Next up I’m looking forward to The Hunger Games, and after that Mirror, Mirror, a Snow White retelling. If they live up to their potential as well as John Carter did, it’s going to be a good month at the movies.

Other reviews:
Screen Rant
Angelocracy
Eclipse Magazine
The Oregonian
Stainless Steel Droppings
More?

Saturday Snapshots: Daffodils and a Raccoon

On March 10, 2012March 22, 2012 By cherylmahoneyIn Saturday Snapshot15 Comments

This week, I thought I’d carry on with the spring flower theme and show more daffodils.

This is a cluster of daffodils in my neighborhood, which I walk past often–I was watching them for a while until they finally bloomed!

Don’t mind the garden hose in the upper left corner, but do notice the little raccoon statue. I wish I could have got a picture of him closer to the daffodils–and it actually would have been possible. I walk past frequently, and I always look for the raccoon, because every day or two he’s in a new place. Either someone who lives here is having a great deal of fun, or Gnomeo and Juliet is all true!

Check out At Home with Books for more Saturday Snapshots.

The Witch’s Daughter

On March 9, 2012March 9, 2012 By cherylmahoneyIn Fiction Friday5 Comments

Today’s short story is another one from my NaNo novel, told by my storytelling main character, Lyra. You don’t have to know any background, except perhaps that her stories are heavily influenced by the Brothers Grimm, so feel free to skip on down to the story if you like. There is a little context that may be interesting though.

The non-NaNo novel draft I’m working on is about Jasper, a wandering adventurer, and Julie, a girl he rescues who ends up traveling with him. There’s also Tom, a talking cat. In one chapter, they go to the castle of the Twelve Dancing Princesses, which then became the basis for my NaNo novel, telling the story from one princess’ point of view. Lyra spends some time talking to Julie, and learns a little about her–her mother was a witch, her father taught her to read, she has a conceited orange cat and Jasper can’t read. Lyra goes on to make up a story about Julie and Jasper to tell her sisters. Because she doesn’t know much, it bears only slight resemblance to the story in my other novel. But it was fun to take several of the same elements, and throw them together into a new story.

So here is Lyra’s mostly untrue story about a witch’s daughter and a wandering adventurer.

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The Witch’s Daughter

I told a tale that began once upon a time not too long ago, about a girl whose father taught her to read. The girl’s father died when she was still quite young, which left her alone with her mother. This was doubly sad, because her mother, it turns out, was a witch, in every sense of the word. She was far more interested in her magic and her spells than in her daughter, and the girl was mostly left to herself. She explored the crumbly old castle they lived in, and read every one of her father’s books.

In due time, the girl grew up into a young woman, one who dreamed of escaping her mother and finding her own path through the world. Since she had never been beyond the castle and knew no one else, she was afraid to run away alone. She was also afraid that her mother would catch her, as a witch has many resources to hand. And if she caught her, there were far too many horrible things she could do. But the girl was smart, and patient, and so she waited for her opportunity to escape.

One dark night there was a terrible storm, and out of the midst of the storm there came a man on horseback who had lost his way. He came to the castle to ask for shelter. The witch saw that he was young and strong and there were many uses she could find for one such as him. The girl saw that he was handsome, with hazel eyes. The witch invited the young man in, and told him he must stay until the storm was gone. Continue reading “The Witch’s Daughter” →

The Playwright from Stratford

On March 7, 2012March 9, 2012 By cherylmahoneyIn Reviews6 Comments

I recently tackled my first Nonfiction book of the year for the Non-fiction Non-memoir Challenge, and it conveniently addressed my Dusty Bookshelf challenge too. The book: Contested Will by James Shapiro. Clever little pun there, as it’s a book about the Shakespeare authorship question.

Back-story for the Dusty Bookshelf challenge:

How long has it been on my shelf? Since Christmas, 2010, so a little over a year. Erm. I am SLOW about getting to nonfiction.

I almost never buy unread books, so how did I get it? As noted, Christmas. It was a gift.

Now that I’ve read it, am I keeping it? Probably for the moment, though it could go in some future, panicked, “I have no shelf space” purge.

Considering the subject of the book, I should probably start by discussing biases. I’m a Stratfordian, meaning I think the man from Stratford wrote the plays–that is, I think Shakespeare really was Shakespeare. Shapiro is a Stratfordian too, which may be one reason I liked his book; it doesn’t hurt when you agree with a conclusion. But that wasn’t the only reason. It was a very engaging, scholarly but entertaining look at the history of the authorship question, and of cultural attitudes towards Shakespeare, his plays, and writing on a broader level.

Shapiro takes us through the history of the authorship controversy, starting with early impressions of Shakespeare and how the authorship question first arose. He looks in-depth at two chief contenders for the role of secret author, Francis Bacon and the Earl of Oxford. He then concludes with a section on the evidence for Shakespeare really being Shakespeare.

It’s a scholarly book that isn’t at all dry. Shapiro examines the people who were involved in pushing opinion one way or another. Many are recognizable names, like Mark Twain (a Baconite) and Sigmund Freud (an Oxfordian). Many proposed extraordinarily entertaining theories. The Baconites wanted to read codes and ciphers hidden in the plays, and came up with things that make The Da Vinci Code look simple and rational by comparison. The Oxfordians tend to push for vast conspiracies hiding the true identity of the playwright.

For myself, I’ve always been a Stratfordian because the arguments against the man from Stratford seemed so flimsy, and Shapiro has reinforced that feeling. There seem to be three chief arguments, and they’re all frequently examined throughout Contested Will.

1) Shakespeare didn’t have enough education – This discounts the very solid grammar school in Stratford at the time, which had a curriculum more like a university philosophy degree than the grammar schools we think of. It also discounts the possibility of self-education, and, most importantly, the capability of genius. To say that Shakespeare couldn’t write his plays because he didn’t go to university is to say that Abraham Lincoln couldn’t write the Gettysburg Address and Mozart couldn’t have begun composing at four years old.

2) Shakespeare didn’t have the right life experience – Shapiro discusses extensively how people first started viewing Shakespeare’s writing as autobiographical. This was fascinating, exploring the different cultural expectations over the centuries and the amazing amount of fiction people come up with about what Shakespeare “must” have known/felt/thought/lived. In Shakespeare’s day, autobiographies were virtually unheard of, and the expectation was not that playwrights were drawing on their own life experiences. As to the supposed extensive knowledge Shakespeare would have needed, of court life, falconry, geography, foreign languages and so on, I might concede this point if anyone claimed he had lived in Stratford all his life. But he didn’t–he lived in London, the metropolis of his day. If he didn’t speak French, he could find a Frenchman to help him out. He could learn what he needed to, and let’s not forget he wasn’t perfect: he did have sailors land on the shore of Bohemia, a land-locked country.

3) There aren’t records of Shakespeare as a playwright – There are actually frequent contemporary references to Shakespeare as actor and playwright, which Shapiro highlights at length in the last section of the book. We don’t have Shakespeare’s papers and manuscripts, but apparently no one went looking for them until the 1800s. Shakespeare died in 1616 – by the time scholars were trying to find his papers, all the witnesses were long since dead, and even his direct family line had died out.

Shapiro paints a fascinating picture of scholarship over the centuries, showing how cultural understandings of different times changed the views on Shakespeare. A couple of trends emerge. One is a tendency to deify Shakespeare, to make him and his plays impossibly insightful and profound. They are insightful and profound. But 400 years of scholarship and analysis endows them with so much insight that of course people question whether a glover’s son from Stratford could possibly be that brilliant. No one could be that brilliant, if he had really intended even half of what people have read into the plays. (And the frequent attack on him as a glover’s son smacks of classism too.)

The second trend that keeps showing up is the desire of scholars to make Shakespeare look like themselves. I’ve noticed this before. I had a college professor (female) who was convinced that Shakespeare was a woman. Not Queen Elizabeth–some unidentified, well-educated, multi-lingual, upper-class woman (because there were a LOT of those in Elizabethan England…) The tendancy seems to be for scholars to project how they want Shakespeare to be, and then go look for someone who fits the part.

I’m sure this book is much better if you already have a solid knowledge of Shakespeare. It’s in-depth, and Shapiro goes for the details more than the broad strokes. But if you like the details, the last section of the book is great fun, when he gets into the evidence for Shakespeare writing Shakespeare. It’s almost a collection of anecdotes about Shakespeare’s life in London, the players he worked with, the other writers he knew…I really enjoyed the glimpses of Shakespeare’s life.

So in the end, I ended up more firmly convinced in my stance as a Stratfordian. For one thing, the theories of the other groups seem so poor (and often funny), it bolsters the man from Stratford’s claim. For a second thing, I like the man from Stratford. I like the glover’s son who went to the big city, became an actor and a playwright and rose to fame, who wrote great art but also wrote according to the constraints of actually putting the plays on, who responded to the muse but also intended to make some money. But then, I’m a mix of artist and pragmatist in my writing–so maybe I’m projecting onto Mr. Shakespeare too!

Author’s Site: http://www.jamesshapiro.net/

Other reviews:
Vulpes Libris
Steep Stairs Review
California Literary Review
Any others I should link to?