The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide (Douglas Adams)

I had some extra time this past week, so instead of reading one novel I read four (and a short story). While The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide: Five Complete Novels and One Story is, as its name implies, five novels, I didn't have time to read the fifth. I will eventually—maybe even today—but I figured I could probably get away with only reviewing the first four. If you don't like the first one, you'll most likely not like the rest anyway, and contrary-wise as well. Also, I found out today that Eoin Colfer, writer of the Artemis Fowl series, just released a sixth Hitchhiker's Guide book on October 12 (with the approval of Adams' widow, of course), proving once again that the universe works in mysterious ways—though don't ask me when the first time was. I'm gonna use that as an excuse for why this 30-year-old series is relevant to your life.

Synopsis

Arthur Dent is boring. He lives in England, works for the BBC, doesn't really do much. One day he wakes up to find bulldozers outside his front door, prepared to knock over his house to make way for a new highway bypass. Try as he might, he can't figure out a way to stop this from happening. Luckily for Arthur, Earth is destroyed just after lunchtime, so the problem mostly solves itself.


Thus begins the first novel of The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide, inexplicably titled The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Arthur is saved from an imminent demise by his friend Ford Prefect, who is not from Earth at all, but actually from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse. Arthur and Ford hitchhike off the planet in time to watch it explode, along with everything and everyone Arthur has ever known, loved, or was marginally aware of existing at some point in his life. They meet up with Ford's semicousin Zaphod Beeblebrox, President of the Galaxy, who is piloting a stolen spaceship prototype with an Infinite Improbability Drive, along with a chronically depressed robot named Marvin, and Trillian, the last human female in the Galaxy. They then have a series of highly unlikely adventures, including but not limited to: discovering an undiscoverable planet; killing a potted plant; learning the Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything; watching a whale explode; and meeting the man who built Norway.

Somewhere in all of that is a plot, but who really cares? The subsequent books continue on in similar fits of improbability, and the whole shebang is generally quite hilarious. It's really interesting how well the humor comes across, considering these books were written decades ago in England. For the most part, I would have believed they'd been written yesterday in New Jersey or something if that's what you told me. Sometimes humor loses its luster over time, but these don't feel dated at all. The books are absurd, but accessibly so. I saw the film version when it came out a few years back, and reading the books now I was surprised at how well the tone was copied. It was difficult not to picture Mos Def as Ford Prefect and Sam Rockwell as Zaphod Beeblebrox as I was reading, but as it turns out the casting for the film was pretty phenomenal, and the picture in my mind throughout all four novels synced up well with what I'd been supplied with by the movie version. I usually read a book before I see its film adaptation, but I think in this case it genuinely doesn't matter which you experience first. The film is slightly more plot driven than the book—the novels all introduce plots, and then proceed to not really worry too much about them—and I think the book is a little bit more fun, but on the whole they both offer up some decent entertainment.

One thing I really enjoyed about these books—aside from the humor, the tone, the improbable events, and the talking mattresses—is that Douglas Adams makes the actual The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy a real book. There are tons of references to different entries from the guide, and Ford Prefect is himself a researcher for the publisher (he got stuck on Earth for fifteen years when he popped down to update its entry and couldn't find a way off the planet again). Adams is also excellent at using these random entries and factoids to subtly foreshadow events that happen later on in a book or later on in the series. Some of these are casual, offhand remarks made to be humurous, but others are introductions to aspect of the story that become major plot points, and you never quite know which is which. It reminded me a lot of Harry Potter in that way. The universe of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy exists already in its entirety; we're being told just a few of its infinite number of stories.

Rating

The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide: Five Complete Novels and One Story
by Douglas Adams

Story—7.67
It definitely helps having all of these novels together in one place. They read more like pieces of the same large book, and it all fits together very nicely in this format. I got mine at B&N for like $20—a nice leather-bound edition, too—but I'm pretty sure there are several versions.

Style—8.67
The absurd, improbable, humorous tone is consistent throughout. Also, some of the chapters are of a normal, average novel chapter size, but some are only half a page, or a sentence, and it's nice that these are injected into the story every so often.

General—9
All of these books are fun and easy to read, but filled with thought-provoking ideas and universal questions. They all mesh together nicely, but aren't overly formulaic and don't seem like the same plot on a different day. It also isn't nerdy or overly sci-fi. I loved Dune and Ender's Game, don't get me wrong, but this is absolutely nothing like either of those.

Overall—8.44



I'm definitely going to finish that fifth novel, partly so I can read the new one, but mostly because I'm going to assume that it's just as entertaining as the other four. Adams kept my attention through four novels (and a short story) in under a week. That's nothing to shake an Arcturian Megadonkey leg at. Keep reading, Genoshans!

Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard (Kiran Desai)

About a year or so ago I picked up a random book off one of the paperback tables at Barnes & Noble called The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai. It had a decent cover and it said it had won all kinds of prizes so I gave it a shot. It wound up being an incredible book (that I highly recommend), so when I saw another Kiran Desai title last week on a similar paperback table at B&N, I figured I'd take a look. Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard is actually Desai's first novel—so I guess I technically read them out of order, oh well—but I'm excited to say it's just as good as her second.

Synopsis

Sampath Chawla is a twenty-year-old boy living in Shahkot, a small village in northern India, with no goals, ambitions, aspirations, or real prospects of any kind. He's lazy, has no desire to work or learn anything new, and is in fact a bit stupid. Mr. Chawla constantly spouts off bits of advice in the hopes that this might help motivate his son, but none of it seems to stick. When Sampath is fired from his job at the post office, he decides he's had enough, and runs away from home to live in the branches of a guava tree in an orchard outside of town. Life is wonderful in the guava tree for Sampath: he eats whenever he likes; he sleeps whenever he likes; he is no longer bothered by the constant prattle of people telling him what to do. Unfortunately for Sampath, however, this peaceful state of living does not last long. Upon finding him living in his guava tree, a group of villagers determine that Sampath must be a holy man, and the Chawla family sets up a permanent residence at the base of his tree to capitalize on their son's newfound fame.

Now, that might not sound like the most exciting idea for a novel ever, but this book is actually pretty hilarious. It reminded me a lot of 100 Years of Solitude, but in a lighter, funnier way. All of the characters are completely ridiculous: the Chief Medical Officer for the village is a hypochondriac; there's a spy from the Atheist Society determined to prove Sampath is a fake; a band of alcoholic monkeys takes Shahkot hostage as they ransack every house, store, and car while looking for booze. It's a study in ineptitude, since no one can figure out what to do with the monkeys. The superintendent of the police wants to be demoted so he won't have as much work to do. The Brigadier of the army would rather bird watch from the comfort of his toilet. Sampath wants the monkeys to stay, since they are fun and bring him peace, but Mr. Chawla wants them to go, since they disrupt the worshippers who pay to come see Sampath. Even the worshipers themselves end up at odds, and split into two separate religious factions. Everything gets completely out of control, which only makes each character's reaction even more amusing.


The entire novel is a beautiful satire on family, religion, and life in a small town. What's nice, though, is that the tone remains light throughout. I never felt weighted down with a message or the seriousness of any one situation. Desai's other novel, Inheritance of Loss, is an amazing piece of writing, but it doesn't have the same tone. It's much more serious, and I'm impressed that she is able to set two of her books in a similar setting during a similar time and have them be so vastly different. If you see either one of her novels while you're shopping around for something new to read, definitely pick it up.

Rating

Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard
by Kiran Desai

Story—8.27
Desai plays to her strengths, and doesn't make the book overly long. It's a light, quick read, but it's also not a pushover. This is a solid piece of writing.

Style—8.5
Sampath, Shahkot, and everything about this book comes alive. It's possible that I'm getting so caught up in this one because everything I've read in the past month has been so serious, but I'm pretty sure it's just good writing.

General—9
Ok, this has absolutely nothing to do with the book itself, but check out the wikipedia page for the actual village of Shahkot. Amazing.

Overall—8.59



Keep reading, Genoshans!

The Zahir (Paulo Coelho)

Lately the universe seems to be conspiring towards introducing me to as many books on spirituality and self-discovery as possible. I found The Zahir on my girlfriend's bookshelf, and even though I've seen it there for months, for some reason now seemed like a good time to take a look. Paulo Coelho is a great author—I've already read The Alchemist, The Devil and Miss Prym, and By The River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept, though several years ago now—but I'd begun to think of him as a one-trick pony. He writes books on the power of love and discovery and the way we all should live our lives. After avoiding him these past few years, as I tend to do when I overexpose myself to any writer (I did the same with Chuck Palahniuk around the same time, actually), I decided to take one more look at Coelho and see if he had anything new to offer me.

Synopsis

The Zahir tells the story of a man whose wife, Esther, mysteriously disappears one day from their home in Paris. All of the evidence available leads the man—a famous writer of the same kinds of books Coelho writes—and the authorities to believe that Esther was not kidnapped, but has simply run away. A small scandal erupts in the tabloids, and for a while the writer has a difficult time getting his life back on track. Eventually he writes a new book that deals with his loss. The book becomes a best seller, and the writer rejoins the world he once knew, only to find himself feeling empty without the love of his wife. Then, at a book signing event near his home, the writer is confronted by the man who he believes his wife ran away with. This man ultimately helps the writer begin a spiritual journey that will hopefully reunite him with his estranged wife.

All of Coelho's books are about a spiritual journey of some kind. The Alchemist is one of my favorite novels, because the story is so simple and the message so powerful. In The Zahir, Coelho's beliefs have seemed to evolve somewhat, and while the depth of spirituality feels like a natural evolution from his other works, I'm not yet convinced I feel he made the right choice. It's difficult to objectively critique a book that does its absolute best to make a reader question themselves and the way they live their life—in a good way—by forcing them to take a look around and think about what's really important to them. The Zahir talks a lot about things in life that people focus on too much or too little. The word "Zahir" itself refers to an object, person, or idea that someone cannot get out of their head no matter how hard they try. The Zahir takes on mythical, or even mystical properties, leading the person to believe that their life would be complete if they could just find this one missing piece. In the novel, the writer's missing wife is his Zahir, and he spends most of his time worrying about how to get her back instead of how to improve himself as a person. As is usually the case, I understand and appreciate most of what Coelho writes about in The Zahir. I think he has a tremendous gift for writing down ideas in ways that are easily accessible. That being said, I'm still not sure how I feel about this book.

As I mentioned, I love The Alchemist. It's an exceptionally well-written novel. Coelho's message is framed in such a way that the story can be enjoyed on its own, without the reader feeling weighted down by the spiritual subtext. It's subtle, beautiful, and filled with little one-line mantras that are easily remembered, like "When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better, too." The Alchemist reads like a fable, and a reader can take what they are ready to take from it and hopefully grow from there. The Zahir doesn't work that way, though. It's not a fable at all, it reads more like a memoir. The narrator—the writer who loses his wife—is basically Paulo Coelho, except some of the titles of his previous books are changed, along with the names of the people in his life. My main issue with The Zahir, though, is that it feels inaccessible to anyone who is not reading it at the exact right time in their life. It is at times quite preachy, and the message is heavy-handed and repeated often: give up your personal history; live in the present; let the energy of love flow through you. As you guys know from the last few weeks of reviews, I've been reading a lot lately about how, more or less, the energy to change a person's life resides within that person. The Lost Symbol was all about discovering apotheosis and the god inside of man. The Gnostic Gospels, while boring, discussed an early form of Christianity that had more to do with an individual's spiritual rebirth than with the physical resurrection of Jesus. The Zahir really dives into an aspect of this type of thinking, the idea that the universe conspires towards your happiness as long as you see the signs and do your best to keep improving yourself. It's just a little too preachy. There were too many characters who seemed to have all the answers, and while I found ways to apply some of their theories to my own life, I wasn't able to connect with them. Maybe it's because I'm young, and unmarried, and not looking back at twenty years of marriage wondering why I don't love my wife the way I did on our wedding day. Or maybe it's because I'm not spiritually ready to let go of my personal history and assume complete responsibility for my happiness. I don't know, though, I've been very happy lately. I'm on a personal journey that's allowing me to do things that I really enjoy and can see myself doing for the rest of my life, and much of that is thanks to a positive attitude I picked up from The Alchemist years ago. The Zahir just didn't hold the same power for me, not at this point in my life anyway.

Rating

The Zahir
by Paulo Coelho

Story—6.9
This seems like the same product in a different package, and the new package isn't as good as the old package. I needed to connect with the characters a little more.

Style—7.5
I'll give the guy props for staying on message, and for having the talent and wisdom he has to write this book as a novel instead of a work of nonfiction. The problem, though, is again that he's done this same thing in the past, but better.

General—7.63
It's a very interesting book, and it's a quick and painless read. I was intrigued by the narrator's journey and did want to know how things turned out in the end. It's possible this is the kind of book that takes a while to sink in, and maybe in the long run it will change my life, but I think it could have been written better.

Overall—7.34



If any of you have read this one before, please feel free to comment. I'd love to hear what others thought about The Zahir since I'm still kinda up in the air myself.

Keep reading, Genoshans!

John Dollar (Marianne Wiggins)

Wow. So my uncle gave me this book a while back and told me it was great, but it just sat on my shelf for a few months while I was reading other things. This week I decided to pick it up and check it out finally, and I am sure glad I did. John Dollar is an excellent book, poetic and surreal. It's the first time I've ever come close to using those lame, New York Times Book Review words like "haunting, devastating, powerful," and all that. This book is incredible.

Synopsis

Shortly before the end of World War I, recently widowed Charlotte Lewes decides to leave England and everything that reminds her of her late husband. She heads to British-occupied Burma and becomes a teacher for the children of English citizens living abroad. After slowly alienating herself from Burmese society over the course of several months, Charlotte eventually meets John Dollar, a sailor, and the two fall in love. A brief time later, the parents of Charlotte's students decide to go on a short pleasure cruise to visit some of the local islands. Tragedy strikes, however, when an earthquake-spawned tidal wave wrecks the ships and strands John, Charlotte, and eight young girls on a deserted tropical island.

Long story short: Lord of the Flies, but with girls. It's so much more than that, though. For some reason, novels set in and around India and Southeast Asia—Inheritance of Loss and Life of Pi come to mind—always tend to have this mystical air about them. This one's not any different. Wiggins' writing makes Lord of the Flies seem stiff and heavy handed. She doesn't overload the book by inserting all kinds of political and social commentaries. Instead, she deals with the warped reality perceived by these young girls, who had hardly begun to understand their own world before being tossed into this new, deadly paradise. Wiggins also makes some very interesting choices in John Dollar that I think pay off in the long run, such as never getting overly technical, instead keeping the narrative on the fringes of reality. She intentionally leaves certain aspects of the story out and describes some scenes or passages of time only vaguely. This sparse, poetic style helps the reader focus in on what really matters. I never felt bogged down or as if I just had to get through this lengthy description before I got to the good stuff. The whole thing is the good stuff. I flew through this book—it's just over 200 pages—and couldn't stop thinking about it during the moments when I wasn't reading it. There's not a whole lot more I can say about it, other than this is a fantastic novel and you should definitely check it out. Feel free to borrow it from me if you have to; I'd gladly let you have it for a few days, because that's all you'd really need.


Rating

John Dollar
by Marianne Wiggins

Story—8.33
Yes, it's another "what happens when society is not around to enforce its rules" book. No, it's not like any other I've ever read, though. Wiggins takes control of the situation in a way I didn't think was possible, and revives a timeless idea. She doesn't make it about society and it's rules. The book is about these poor girls and how they react to what's happening around them.

Style—9
The writing is so beautiful, but not in a lofty, lyrical way. Wiggins handles sex and cannibalism with equal grace and poise. Ugh, I hate how I sound right now, like some kind of stuck up literati. This book=SO GOOD.

General—8.5
John Dollar is concise, there's really no other way to describe it. Marianne Wiggins gives you exactly what you need and nothing more. I'm extremely impressed.

Overall—8.61



I really hope you go check this one out if you can. I don't think I ever would have picked this book up on my own—the cover is kind of ugly, and that's how I usually judge books :P. I'm definitely going to have to thank my uncle for handing this one off to me (thanks Uncle John!). Have you read any great books lately that I should check out? Feel free to make suggestions.

Keep reading, Genoshans!

The Gnostic Gospels (Elaine Pagels)

After reading The Lost Symbol last week, I thought I should take a look at a book that addressed some of the religious ideas that Dan Brown mentions in the novel. I took a look at what I had on my shelf, and noticed The Gnostic Gospels, which I remembered purchasing as book #3 off the "Buy 2, Get the 3rd Free" table at Barnes & Noble a while back. Gnosticism refers to a group of religious movements that centered around the idea that God resides within the human body, which just happened to be the kind of thing I was looking to read about this week.

Synopsis

Back in 1945, a collection of ancient books and papers were discovered hidden in a clay jar that had been buried in the side of an Egyptian cliff. After a brief stint on the black market, the books finally found their way into the hands of the Egyptian government, who sent them to the Coptic Museum in Cairo. The books were a collection of gnostic gospels, written between the 1st and 2nd centuries A.D. by early Christians outside of the main catholic church, that had been condemned and labeled heretical and blasphemous. Elaine Pagels was one of the first scholars given access to the texts, and The Gnostic Gospels identifies some of the findings produced from her research.

Now, I guess I can't really be upset because I didn't actually pay for this book (and even if I had, it's been sitting on my shelf so long that it wouldn't matter). I was a little disappointed, though. While Pagels definitely writes about her findings in a clear and accessible way, it's not a terribly interesting book. She briefly touches upon some of the specific teachings and "mysteries" behind the gnostic religions, but for the most part this is an analytical history book, comparing the main "orthodox" branch of the early Christian church to its gnostic counterparts. There's a lot of citation and referencing, and the book reads almost like a college dissertation. Many of the passages Pagels quotes are either repeated frequently or are very similar to other passages. From a purely academic standpoint, sure, it gets the point across quite well: the early orthodox Christians were different from the early gnostic Christians. Okay, but that's not necessarily all that interesting. Pagels fails to delve into some of the more sensational aspects of early gnosticism, or to even speculate on what the findings might mean to the church today. In her conclusion, she remarks that, had these texts been discovered before the modern era, they would have most likely been burned for being heretical. Since they were found so recently, however, scientists have been able to preserve and study them without much interference from the church, without fear of their existence having damaging implications for Christianity in general. That's about as far Pagels takes it, though. If you're someone who is interested in the scholarly pursuit of religious history, then this book might be for you. Otherwise, you can probably leave this one alone if you see it on the bargain table at your local bookstore.

Rating

The Gnostic Gospels
by Elaine Pagels

Story—N/A
No story here. Pagels chooses to use the writings of a few contemporary philosophers and early Christian figures as repeated references, but not to the point where it doesn't still feel research-based.

Style—7
This is all very important stuff if you care at all about religious history and the evolution of the church. Otherwise, it's just a research paper.

General—6
Pagels is repetitive and doesn't choose to sensationalize her findings, instead using excerpts from letters written at the time to support the idea that the gnostics were Christians not supported by the church. That's about it, though. She discusses some of the practices of these gnostics, but presents them merely as facts and addresses them as they pertain to the doctrine they were competing against. Had she put forth any notion that these gnostic practices might affect faith and the church of today, it might have been a little more interesting.

overall—6.5



Sorry this week's book was a bummer. I was excited to continue along the religious/spiritual path that I had started from reading Dan Brown last week. Unfortunately, the real world isn't quite as absurd as Brown would like us to believe. Oh well. Keep reading, Genoshans!

The Lost Symbol (Dan Brown)

Unless you don't care about books at all (in which case you most likely aren't reading this review anyway), you probably know that this week saw the publication of Dan Brown's new novel, The Lost Symbol. Hot on the heels of his last bestselling novel, 2003's The Da Vinci Code, Brown's new book has been generating a lot of buzz around the literary world. It hit the shelves on Tuesday, so I figured I would pick it up and check it out for you guys.

Synopsis

The Lost Symbol follows the events of a hectic 12-hour period in the life of Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon as he tries to decipher ancient codes and puzzles in order to prevent the unspeakable from happening. Wait a minute, wasn't that the plot of The Da Vinci Code? And Angels & Demons before that? Hold on. The Da Vinci Code took place in Paris and London; Angels & Demons took place in Italy; The Lost Symbol takes place in Washington, D.C., and they all have different love interests. Phew, that was a close one. So anyway, Robert Langdon is called in to solve a mystery that only he can solve, because apparently no one else in the world knows anything about history, symbology, architecture, or the occult. Langdon's a middle-aged man with an academic background, but he keeps in shape by swimming laps in the Harvard pool every morning, so he can handle huge adventures like this every couple years.


Whoops, sorry. Wrong guy. This middle-aged academic:


Oh wow, this is so embarrassing.


There we go, sorry about that. Where was I? Oh yeah, so Dan Brown's new book, The Lost Symbol, is amazing. It's like nothing he's ever written before. Robert Langdon gets called in to help solve this mystery that only he can solve, that revolves around ancient symbols and legends that only he knows of somehow. There's a family secret that gets revealed towards the end (that doesn't happen in his other books, right?), and hidden chambers beneath famous landmarks, and what else? Oh yeah, there's a no-nonsense investigator and a really bizarre, larger-than-life villain who's determined to make sure that Robert Langdon does not survive the night. How does Dan Brown come up with this stuff?

Seriously, though, folks. Despite the fact that The Lost Symbol is almost the exact same book, with the exact same plot, and a lead character who is extremely boring and seems to have lost a lot of personality since the last book and is now virtually a walking encyclopedia instead of the main focus of the story, it's actually very suspenseful and fun to read. It's a little too long, though, and slightly anti-climactic, and he uses italics at least sixteen times on every single page.

Somehow, despite all of that, I still enjoyed reading this book. Like I said, it's suspenseful. Brown never enters a scene without teasing a new mystery, and never answers a question without posing another. The chapters are short, which keeps the book moving along at a decent pace, and there's a ton of action to keep things interesting. I'm also a fan of the whole idea of this pseudo-factual historical puzzle genre, so I like seeing the characters figure things out. Sometimes I knew what was coming, but at other times I was completely wrong, and that's always a good thing. The book is a little too long, though. Towards the end, Brown gets really repetitive and his final summation of what the reader should have learned from the book is heavy handed—almost Ayn Rand-ish. He doesn't over-reference his other books, which is good, but on the flip side I feel like maybe the events of the previous two adventures would have had a more lasting effect on Langdon. Everything is tidied up nicely at the end, but if you're looking for a huge "OMGSHE'SRELATEDTOJESUSWTF" moment in this one, you're gonna be disappointed. I liked the book, I don't think it was a waste of my time because it was fun and kept me guessing, but it definitely could have been a lot better.

Rating

The Lost Symbol
by Dan Brown

Story—6.83
Brown needed to go above and beyond what he's already done in The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons, but he sticks with the formula instead. It's good, but the puzzles aren't necessarily more shocking or exciting than in his previous books.

Style—7
He's very good at writing this novel—considering he's done it three times now—and I'm sure on its own it would be much more exciting, but looking at this book in comparison to the other two... it's just formula at this point.

General—7.5
It's easy to read, easy to get through, keeps the reader engaged and guessing: theoretically this a great book. I doubt anyone would read this book and hate it. It just lacks the spark of a really good novel. Robert Langdon is not a very interesting character anymore. He hasn't grown or evolved, and could honestly be substituted for a good Wikipedia page in this one.

Overall—7.11



I can see why people might enjoy this book, but I doubt I'll ever pick up another one of Dan Brown's novels unprovoked ever again. Until next Friday, keep reading, Genoshans!

Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters (Jane Austen and Ben H. Winters)

Remember a few months ago when I reviewed Pride and Prejudice and Zombies? Remember how much I absolutely loved that book? Well, this Tuesday, September 15, Quirk Books, the publisher of P&P&Z, is releasing Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters, the next installment of its "literary monster-mash ups" series. Lucky for all you Genoshans out there, I was able to get my hands on an advance copy of S&S&SM, and it is with tremendous pleasure that I am able to review it for you now.

Synopsis

Similar to its predecessor, Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters adapts a classic Jane Austen work and introduces an element of supernatural gore to feast on the unsuspecting British elite. In this story, the Dashwood sisters—Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret—and their mother are forced from their home upon the death of their father (who was devoured by a hammerhead shark, by the way). They are invited to stay in a cottage on the property of a relation of theirs, the adventure-seeking Sir John Middleton, and adapt to their new lives quickly. All is not how it seems, however. Hideous sea monsters plague the shores of their island home, often sinking ships or interrupting beach bonfires to gorge on fashionable young ladies. All of these dangers, however, take a back seat to the most pressing problem in the young Miss Dashwoods' lives—finding a husband.

I loved the first book, and even though Quirk pulled in a different author for this one, it's definitely got the same basic feel to it. In both books, the inciting incident that produces such dreadful monsters—be it of the undead or aquatic variety—is never explained, although characters often have their own theories. It isn't necessary, though. In this one in particular, Winters just drops us in the middle of a world where humans have to constantly cope with the idea that any body of water could at any time hold creatures that want to devour them. S&S&SM differs from P&P&Z somewhat in its commitment to the ridiculousness of it's premise. The synergy between the new text and the Austen original isn't as clean, but I don't think that it really loses anything. There are a few story points that could possibly be a little clearer, but every time Winters strays from the original story he tends to do it in a way that enhances the sea monsterness of the whole book, so overall I'm okay with it. Instead of going to London, for example, Elinor and Marianne spend several months in Sub-Marine Station Beta (don't even ask what happened to Sub-Marine Station Alpha, tsk tsk tsk). Winters takes many more liberties with the text than his predecessor, and while he sacrifices that feeling of seamless integration that I loved in P&P&Z, I think he makes up for in giant-octopus-just-attached-his-sucker-to-my-face awesomeness.

Now, if you weren't a fan of the first book, chances are you aren't going to like this one very much. While they differ—in some cases for the better, in other cases not so much—, the general tone and feel of the book is almost identical. Death is treated as a natural occurrence that most of the characters are completely indifferent to (unless it's their own). Usually people die in hilarious ways, like being speared by an angry narwhal or swallowed whole by a massive jellyfish, and that's great, but maybe some people aren't into that kind of thing. Other absurd elements include: an orangutan valet named Monsieur Pierre, dolphin riding, an entire set of characters married to the men who abducted them from their aboriginal home, a 35-year-old man with a crush on a teenager, and an octopus whistle. An octopus whistle! Come on, how is that not amazing?

P.S. You should definitely check out the book trailer that Quirk made. It'll give you a good idea of what to expect if you haven't read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

Rating

Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters
by Jane Austen and Ben H. Winters

Story—8.5
It is an extremely enjoyable book, and the adaptation into a monstrous world is probably handled better in this book than in P&P&Z. However, on the whole I enjoy the original Pride and Prejudice more than the original Sense and Sensibility, so it suffers some points there. That's Jane Austen's fault, though, don't blame the sea monsters.

Style—9
I obviously have to dock some points off of originality since it's basically a sequel, but those points come right back on considering this could have easily been another trendy vampire book, and instead they use sea monsters. Hilarious sea monsters, too. Like giant dancing lobsters and turtles that can be used to ferry around old ladies.

General—9.17
This book is brilliantly executed, and I highly recommend it. It's engaging, funny, and at times even suspenseful. I seriously couldn't put it down. Plus, most of the truly ridiculous moments include illustrations, which helps when trying to visualize what it would look like if a sea scorpion ever got into someone's diving suit. I wouldn't be surprised if there were a lot more of these published in the future.

Overall—8.89



Remember, Genoshans, you can pick up Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters in bookstores or online starting September 15, and that includes the audiobook and Kindle versions. I suggest you check it out.