30 Days Book Meme: Day Eighteen
Day Eighteen: A book that disappointed you
Just one?
I am regularly disappointed by two different types of novel - sequels and spin-offs. The former is what I call 'second book syndrome', when the next instalment in a series cannot possibly hope to match or better the author's debut, and therefore usually fails, and the latter is the literary band wagon upon which brave or foolish authors try to make a name for themselves by taking on famous characters. I'm a sucker for both.
Item 1: Deanna Raybourn's first Lady Julia Grey mystery, Silent in the Grave, is quirky, fun and generally fantastic, with an intelligent heroine, witty and well-researched narrative, and heaps of steamy sexual tension. I raved about the author and her books to everyone, not to mention stalking her blog. But by the third outing, Silent on the Moors, what started as an offbeat Victorian detective series had degenerated into the worst type of romance, with 'feisty' women, gypsies, and generic cover art. Pfft.
Item 2: The many and multiform Jane Austen derivatives, good, bad and ugly. My tried and tested rule of thumb now is not to believe the hype: if everybody is raving about a new 'Austenuation', as The Republic of Pemberley terms the genre, then the book will be either boring or a blatant rehash of the original material. Possibly both. If the reviews are few and far between, because the novel is old or out of print, then the library stack, AbeBooks and eBay are your friend - beg, borrow or steal a copy, satisfaction is promised if not guaranteed. Some Austen imitators who suck: Joan Aiken (far too keen to be 'original' with borrowed characters), Linda Berdoll (the woman can't even write in English, let alone Austen's English), Jane Odiwe (Willoughby's Return, or Sense and Sensibility regurgitated), P.D. James' Death Comes to Pemberley, and last and very much least, Emma Tennant. If she can find a publisher, anyone can.
Just one?
I am regularly disappointed by two different types of novel - sequels and spin-offs. The former is what I call 'second book syndrome', when the next instalment in a series cannot possibly hope to match or better the author's debut, and therefore usually fails, and the latter is the literary band wagon upon which brave or foolish authors try to make a name for themselves by taking on famous characters. I'm a sucker for both.
Item 1: Deanna Raybourn's first Lady Julia Grey mystery, Silent in the Grave, is quirky, fun and generally fantastic, with an intelligent heroine, witty and well-researched narrative, and heaps of steamy sexual tension. I raved about the author and her books to everyone, not to mention stalking her blog. But by the third outing, Silent on the Moors, what started as an offbeat Victorian detective series had degenerated into the worst type of romance, with 'feisty' women, gypsies, and generic cover art. Pfft.
Item 2: The many and multiform Jane Austen derivatives, good, bad and ugly. My tried and tested rule of thumb now is not to believe the hype: if everybody is raving about a new 'Austenuation', as The Republic of Pemberley terms the genre, then the book will be either boring or a blatant rehash of the original material. Possibly both. If the reviews are few and far between, because the novel is old or out of print, then the library stack, AbeBooks and eBay are your friend - beg, borrow or steal a copy, satisfaction is promised if not guaranteed. Some Austen imitators who suck: Joan Aiken (far too keen to be 'original' with borrowed characters), Linda Berdoll (the woman can't even write in English, let alone Austen's English), Jane Odiwe (Willoughby's Return, or Sense and Sensibility regurgitated), P.D. James' Death Comes to Pemberley, and last and very much least, Emma Tennant. If she can find a publisher, anyone can.