Night of the Crabs

Night of the Crabs

by Guy N. Smith

Blurb:

The Welsh coast basks in summer tranquility, then the drownings begin... Not until the monstrous crustaceans crawl ashore, their pincers poised for destruction, does the world understand the threat it faces....

My Reaction:

This was selected for the 372 Pages We'll Never Get Back podcast, and as usual, Donald and I read it together.  

I was expecting this to be a slightly sillier version of Jaws.  (I've never read the book, but I've seen the movie very many times.)  It was even sillier than I'd expected—and surprisingly risqué.  (Perhaps that aspect is less surprising when you read the author's biography and see the other types of "literature" in his bibliography.)  

SPOILERS follow...

The marine biologist/renowned botanist/professor/very "with it" uncle of what's-his-name isn't quite as brilliant as he thinks he is, but then again, everyone in this book is kind of dumb!  

There's an obvious hole in their first big plan to thwart the evil crabs, and everyone is SHOCKED when the plan doesn't work—but then they have another idea that seems so stupid it couldn't possibly work, so of course it does.  

Except... There are no dead crabs under the sea or washing up on shore... And didn't they just go through a time when the crabs were nowhere to be seen... and everyone became complacent... until the crabs resurfaced and killed a whole bunch of people?  Nah, I'm sure it'll be fine this time!  

I don't care for creature-feature monsters that are too impervious to everything that should by rights kill them.  Sure, they're big and armored, but I'm not buying that they're invulnerable to fire or that you can't, you know, aim for their eyes and blind them with good old-fashioned bullets. 

We never do get a satisfying answer as to where they came from—and why only now.   The whole scene with Cliff Davenport (full name, please) spying on the planes at the military base, being shut in "the hole" and then interrogated—leads nowhere!  Very disappointing.  

The only part of the book that actually felt creepy was the poor train engineer (I guess?) who has had a prophetic recurring nightmare about his death that then comes true.  I don't know why, but that gave me a genuine chill.   

Oh well.  The story ends with Cliff Davenport and Pat Benatar Benson heading off to London to marry and live happily ever after (or at least until they learn that the crabs survived, because this is the first of a series of 7—SEVEN!!—books). 

My Brother Michael

My Brother Michael 

by Mary Stewart

(Edited) Blurb:

Camilla Haven is on holiday alone, and wishes for some excitement. She had been sitting quietly in a crowded Athens cafe writing to her friend Elizabeth in England, "Nothing ever happens to me..."

Then, without warning, a stranger approached, thrust a set of car keys at her and pointed to a huge black touring car parked at the curb. "The car for Delphi, mademoiselle... A matter of life and death," he whispered and disappeared.

From that moment Camilla's life suddenly begins to take off when she sets out on a mysterious car journey to Delphi.  The ride was Camilla's first mistake... or perhaps she had unintentionally invoked the gods. She finds herself in the midst of an exciting, intriguing, yet dangerous adventure. An extraordinary train of events turned on a nightmare of intrigue and terror beyond her wildest daydreams.

My Reaction:

I listened to an old audiobook recording of this novel (the Chivers Audio Books version), looking for something relaxing to enjoy while piecing my current quilt project or making watercolor doodles.  It served that purpose well.  This isn't my favorite Mary Stewart "travel mystery"—felt like it took a while for me to get into the story, and it felt more dated than some of the others (or maybe it's just me that has changed)—but it's fine.  

If you like Mary Stewart, you'll probably enjoy this, too, but I wouldn't suggest it as a first choice.  I think there's a reason this one seems to be less well known than The Moon-Spinners or Nine Coaches Waiting, for instance. 

Zero Days

Zero Days

by Ruth Ware

Blurb:

Hired by companies to break into buildings and hack security systems, Jack and her husband, Gabe, are the best penetration specialists in the business. But after a routine assignment goes horribly wrong, Jack arrives home to find her husband dead. To add to her horror, the police are closing in on their suspect—her.

Suddenly on the run and quickly running out of options, Jack must decide who she can trust as she circles closer to the real killer.

My Reaction (with SPOILERS):

I am under no illusions about most of the modern thrillers I read. They are what they are, no more and no less—but some certainly are better than others, and this one had some problems.  

The biggest issue for me was repetitiveness.  The book opens up with a fairly active scene that's about as interesting as anything that happens later the story, but unfortunately, it soon gets bogged down with Jack's grief over her husband, despair over her present and future prospects, and discomfort after an injury.  

Is it realistic that a woman in her situation, newly bereaved and mired in such a shocking set of circumstances, would find her mind going in circles, treading the same ground over and over again?  Yes, absolutely!  Is it in any way enjoyable to read a book where the heroine's mind is going in circles, treading the same ground repeatedly?  Emphatically NO.  It's boring, at best.  I got so very sick and tired of listening to the narrator (audiobook) go on and on about Gabe and how he's now dead. It's just too much.  (My sympathy eventually dies along with him, I'm afraid.) 

After Jack's injury, we're treated to frequent updates on its status, and that, too, becomes just too much.  

Then there's the fact that Jack is missing obvious things that someone in her profession (or anyone of reasonable intelligence and familiarity with the modern world) should probably catch.  (Though to be honest, this bothered me much less than the never-ending grief monologue. I can accept that she's off her game, given the circumstances. Just... Maybe lay off the "I'm damn good at my job" stuff for a while when you're making stupid mistakes left, right, and center.)

This is more of an audiobook-specific complaint, but the male voices were... not good, in my opinion.  Listening to the two male characters with Cockney accents irritated me greatly.  (Gabe's constant refrain of, "Babe, you GOT this!" haunts me still.)  And as for the villain.  Oh my gosh.  He sounds like a cartoon villain. So incredibly annoying.  (And was he supposed to sound rather "posh"?  Because I thought he at least bordered on that, which felt odd and out of place for the character.)  Actually, come to think of it, Jack's own voice is frustrating to listen to, at times.  Whenever she tries to blend in or wheedle someone, she slides into this extremely tiresome whining voice that would make any right-thinking person take an instant dislike to her and be less likely to want to assist her!

I think that's enough nit-picking.  Those are the things that stuck with me most.  It's too bad, but this wasn't one of the author's best books.  

Society Place: A Ghost Story

Society Place: A Ghost Story

by Andrew David Barker

(Edited) Blurb:

Set during the blazing English summer of 1976, recently widowed Heather Lowes moves into the house where she was supposed to live with her husband.

But now she is alone.

Or at least, she thinks she is...

My Reaction:

Warning: There will be spoilers in this mini review!  

I saw this title recommended somewhere and thought I'd give it a try, since it was available to read for free.  I enjoyed the early part of the book, but further along in the story, I began to lose interest.  I just skimmed the last section to see if it ended as expected. (It did.)

I could nitpick, but the biggest problem by far was the characters' lack of gumption, which was tiring and frankly unbelievable.  If you want me to accept that all these people were living on a haunted street and wouldn't have found some way of leaving, you need to explain that more fully.  I guess we're supposed to assume that they couldn't afford to move or that things weren't that bad until starting in the summer of 1976, but none of that is explained to my satisfaction.  Why did it take so many decades for someone to do the obvious and burn the place down?  Rafferty's own mother suggested as much.  Nearly everyone in this book is cursed (or something).  Most of them seem to just accept that they're cursed—and it's very frustrating to read!  I can't stand books or movies where the characters just give up.  I suppose Poppy doesn't give up, but... Eh, it's too little too late, as far as I'm concerned!

I don't know. Maybe I'm expecting too much, but I stand by my position that the story and motivations (or lack thereof) needed more fleshing out—not to mention a more diligent proofreader to catch the typos.  

Of All Things!

Of All Things!

by Robert Benchley

(Cobbled Together) Blurb:

This is a collection of humorous essays by Robert Benchley, an American humorist who worked as a columnist and film actor. Best known for his many years writing essays and articles for Vanity Fair and The New Yorker, and his acclaimed short films, Benchley's style of humor brought him respect and success during his life, from New York City and his peers at the Algonquin Round Table to contemporaries in the burgeoning film industry.

My Reaction:

I don't believe I had ever heard of Robert Benchley before reading this, though I've since learned more about him (such as that he's the grandfather of the author of Jaws) and watched one of his short films (How to Sleep, which is available for free on YouTube).  I think I saw his name on a list of authors to read if you like P.G. Wodehouse, so Donald and I gave this freebie a try between other books. 

It's been months since we finished it, but I think my impression was that it was amusing in spots, but that it felt more dated and less funny than Cuppy's How to Be a Hermit.  Cuppy's book is the more recent of the two—published in 1929, while these essays by Benchley were published in 1921—but the choice of subject matter make the more recent one feel fresher and more relevant (to me) than a mere eight years' difference should make.  

For example, one of these essays relates the process of college football fans gathering to listen to the progress of a game being played at a distant stadium.  But because this was before radio broadcasts of sporting events, the events of the game were communicated via telegraph, with an announcer relaying the play-by-play.  There's a great deal of confusion and mistakes, and the whole thing feels bizarre and far-removed from the modern experience.  (Some of the essays are less severely dated than this, but this one stands out in my memory more than most of the others.)

Anyway, it's been too long since reading it for me to make many more comments.  I'd consider reading more of the author's work.