Anders Monsen

Lost worlds and ports of call

Peter Lovesey’s Diamond Series

February 11, 2025 / / 0 Comments

One of the many mystery/detective series I’ve gotten into over the past few years has been Peter Lovesey’s Peter Diamond books; I’m not sure why Lovesey gave his leading character the same first name as his own, but it’s a bit confusing at times. At this point, I’m no longer sure which of the Diamond books I read first, as there’s now more than twenty of them. It might be Upon a Dark Night, or The Last Detective. According to my library database, the former is the first one entered, and the latter the second. The latter is also the first in the series. I might have started there, maybe not. I tend to start series out of order, since I buy them when I find them. Anyway, I found the first Lovesey book good enough to start looking for all of Peter Lovesey’s books. He has written other books, after all.

Of the 22 books in the Diamond series (if I’m correct regarding that number), I owned—until recently 19 books in the series. The 22nd book was recently published in hardcover, so I’ll discount that one for now. It also might be the last in the series, but I’ll need to wait for the paperback to be sure. Of the other two, one was the 20th in the series. The other, the seventh book in the series, is a far more consequential book. Since I’d read books 8-19, plus book 21, I knew that a singular and major event happened in Diamond’s (fictional) life at some point. Book seven, Diamond Dust, covers that event. It’s a tough read, for sure, knowing the fate in that book of someone close to Diamond.

Most of the books featuring police detective Peter Diamond take place in (or around) Bath, England. I’ve been to Bath twice in my life. The most recent visit was in 2024, where I spent three days in the city, walking the streets (and running through a fair number of them), seeing the sights, and falling in love with the town. My previous visit was in 2000, where I spent just one day there, and saw only a minuscule part of the city. Still, it was an important visit back in 2000, since I connected Bath at that time with Jane Austen. As an English major in college and a Jane Austen fan, that visit meat a great deal to me at the time.

Bath, despite being a touristy town (myself admittedly being one of those tourists), is a wonderful place. The city is ancient. It’s historic. It’s bisected by a river, which always is a thrill in itself. There are hills all around the city. Stonehenge is nearby, London and other places a mere train ride away. There’s the Abbey, the Roman baths, the Crescent, Pulteney Bridge, the weir, so many other features. It has a wonderful Waterstones bookstore, plus far more things that I never got to see. And, lots and lots of tourists. In other words: I love Bath (well, apart from the tourists, even though I was one of them…).

That aside, back to Lovesey’s Peter Diamond series….

All the books I have of Lovesey’s were published by Soho Crime. Once I started to buy and read the trade paperback editions, I had to continue with that format (Okay, so I do have a hardcover or two). I also read them out of order, more or less as I found them. Some, I bought new. Other books, because they weren’t in my local bookstores, I bought used—when and if I came across them in local used bookstores. A handful of the books I found in a specialty bookstore, Murder by the Book, in Houston, Texas. Even there, they didn’t have all the books as new ones.

In January, 20025 I came across Diamond Dust, one that I’d been hunting for quite some time (viz. book seven). This book was in the small used books section in Murder by the Book. I don’t visit Houston often, but I was able to swing to Murder by the Book for slightly less than an hour in January 2025. While there, I was thrilled to find a copy of Diamond Dust in great condition for a used book. Strangely enough, the other two books in the series that I lacked also were there, but I didn’t realize it at the time for one of them, and I skipped the other as it was a hardcover edition, and I have all the rest in trade paperback.

Part of the delight in the series is the setting: the city of Bath in England. Part of it is the main character himself: the overweight, clumsy, yet efficient and old-fashioned detective, Peter Diamond. He’s such a funny person, bumbling yet not stupid, that one can’t help but like him. In the series you also see the changing landscape of local policing. When I visited Bath in 2024, I walked past the supposed HQ of the Bath police department (or former HQ(, in Manvers Street; it’s near the train station, and close to the “center” of town—the area around the Abbey. I really wanted to go inside and ask if anyone had read Lovesey’s books, and if so, what they had thought of them. However, I’m sure I would have been disappointed. I don’t think I ever saw an officer of the law while in Bath. Would it have mattered? Probably not. Bath in real life is nothing like the fictional world. However much one might wish that someone like Peter Diamond existed—they don’t. Which is sad, I think.

Still, if you like good old fashioned English crime stories, seek out Peter Lovesey’s books. You won’t be disappointed. Meanwhile, I’m going to read Diamond Dust slowly, since I known there are powerful emotions at work in that book. I will try not to skip to the end. It’s hard, sometimes, dealing with the stress in a book like this. But, I must resist that temptation, since Diamond means so much to me. Let it all work out, I tell myself.

And then, once I’ve read this book: onward to those other two remaining books in the series.

Books added: Four Arkham House books.

February 10, 2025 / / 0 Comments

I know that I’ll never collect them all, but I do like to pick up Arkham House books when I come across them. In this case, I recently acquired a group of four books by quite disparate authors. When I looked for information about the authors and when their books were published, I turned to Sixty Years of Arkham House by S. T. Joshi. The index in this book isn’t entirely accurate, and each entry is relatively short, covering publication date, number of copies, and a little more. Sometimes there’s an listing of contents for poems and short stories in the volume, but I guess that when covering 200 books there’s not too much room for anything else.

Joshi’s book lists 193 items published by Arkham House; I now own a mere 35 of them. This number is just under 20%, an almost insignificant percentage. I’m quite happy with the ones that I have, though, and I’ll only look for others if a) they’re within my budget and b) the condition looks decent.

The Face in the Mirror, Denys Val Baker
Published in 1971, and now the earliest of my Arkham House books; 2045 copies printed. A slim volume of tales set in the author’s native Cornwall. Prior to this book the earliest Arkham House book that I owned was published in 1975. Having now come close to the magic decade of the 1960s, it makes me quite excited to have a copy of this book.

The Height of the Scream, Ramsey Campbell
Published in 1976; 4348 copies printed. Campbells third Arkham House collection. I own just a couple of Campbell books. One is part of Borderlands Press “Little Book” series. The other is a collection from Dark Harvest with both Campbell and Charles Grant stories (Dark Harvest’s Black Wine). Aside from that, I may have a few anthologies where Campbell has contributed a story.

Dwellers in Darkness, August Derleth
Also published in 1976; 3926 copies printed. The eighth and last Arkham House collection of Derleth stories. Derleth was one of the founders of Arkham House. To acquire the prior seven of his collection likely would bust a few budgets.

The Darkling, David Kesterton
Published in 1982; 3126 copies printed. Kesterton’s name doesn’t appear in the index of Joshi’s 1999 book, and the book title’s page number listed in the index is incorrect. Joshi’s also quite dismissive of the book and author in his note, calling it a “‘Slushpile’ submission that made it’s way to publication.”

It’s such a shame that this major publisher of weird fiction fizzled into almost nothing when it had the major IP of the “Arkham House” name behind it. They’ve hardly published anything in the past two decades. Most of their books published prior to 1970 are hard to find or quite expensive. This is as expected, given the name, as well some of the authors works in that group. Arkham House released N copies for each of their books, no special editions. Golden Gryphon did the same. Most other small current presses will have two or three states: trade hardcover, limited, and/or ultra-limited. Trade books in these states don’t list how many are printed. Limited will list the number of copies in this state, while the ultra-limited usually are lettered books limited to 26 copies.

I’m by no means a Lovecraft fan, but recently saw a bidding war online for the first two collections of his letters rise from $0.99 to nearly $150. That’s a pittance if you interested in early Clark Ashton Smith, or Ray Bradbury’s Dark Carnival (I’ve seen these listed upwards of $6,500), or even William Hope Hodgson’s House on the Borderlands book (close to $1,000). Basically, all the early books fetch prices only the serious collector would pay.

The Jam

February 3, 2025 /

This weekend I watched a documentary on the British band, The Jam, a band that came to fame in the UK in 1977. They released a bunch of singles and albums between that year and their breakup in 1982, supposedly became the voice of a generation, and then vanished.

I think the first song that I ever heard by The Jam was the 1982 single, “The Bitterest Pill,” which was their (second-to-last) single, though in my ears a far better send-off than “The Beat Surrender,” their real last single.

Many years later I listened to some older songs. Of those, only “A Town Called Malice” and “That’s Entertainment” stick with me, although I have vague recollections of “Going Underground” and “Eton Rifles.” All of these songs came out prior to 1982, the year that I really started to listen to British Top 40—and beyond—songs. At the time, I was a teenager living in Zambia, and picked up British songs by chance and recording from friends. In 1983 I moved to Norway, where I picked up BBC Radio One on my radio. This exposed me to Top 40 songs as well as alternatives. By then, The Jam were history, and Paul Weller’s new band, The Style Council, came to the fore.

At that time, I liked The Style Council more than The Jam, at least when it came to many of the songs. Still, Weller kept changing, and apparently the fifth Style Council album was dropped by the label, due to differences between what the label expected and Weller own tastes. After that, Weller went solo, and released his own stuff; I own several of those solo works, although not all of them.

In terms of The Jam, this was a band created by teenagers. They rose to fame, then the lead person decided to end the band and move on. Weller’s always come across as someone with a massive ego, and this documentary does nothing to dispel than view. Although The Style Council was a huge departure from The Jam, his solo stuff doesn’t seem to have the same drive and energy. In a sense, this mirrors many other bands — the lead writer decides to go his own way, and breaks up the band that made him famous. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t.

The Jam weren’t a huge force in my musical life, but they do have some great songs. The Style Council —well, I tend to favor their tunes. As for Weller the solo artist, not so much. Did he destroy his own legacy? Maybe. The Jam could have morphed into other things, but in terms of the documentary, Weller did his bandmates dirty. He cut off his own bandmates, neither of them spoke to him for decades.

What I gained from the documentary was a little bit of history, but also it diminished Weller in my eyes. I think in the future I’ll be less inclined to look for Weller’s music, which is a sad testimony to his supposed talent.

So it goes.

With many bands.

Destroyed by ego.

Murakami Manga

January 22, 2025 /

I’m a huge fan of Haruki Murakami’s fiction. However, I don’t really read manga, the Japanese comic book art form/genre. Still, recently I picked up a pair of Murakami manga books (there’s a third one—at least—out there that I now need to find).

One book—I don’t know if there’s a sequence to them—contains four stories. The other, three stories. Previously, I’ve read all of these in narrative form. “Birthday Girl,” “Where I’m Likely to Find It,” and “The Seventh Man” appeared in the collection Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman, while “Super Frog Saves Tokyo” appeared in After the Quake.

In the other collection, “Thailand” was in After the Quake, while “The Second Bakery Attack” was in The Elephant Vanishes. As for “Samsa in Love,” it appears in Men Without Women., which is a strange choice since there’s a woman in that story. Although, how she’s drawn might lead to some confusion. “Samsa in Love” is, after all, an inversion of Kafka’s “Metamorphosis.”

So, several stories all drawn from various sources. I’ve now read four of of the seven manga tales. Maybe it’s my lack of knowledge of that genre, or graphic novels in general (although I do own a dozen or more graphic novels), but the drawings some across as oddly shaped, distorted almost. There are weird “sound-texts” or words that try to represent non-verbal sounds. Some stories are funny, some meander and go nowhere. I love Murakami’s slow and measured prose, how he makes the normal weird, and the weird normal, but I’m not sure about these manga versions. Is this because I prefer my own inner voice, my own vision of the characters and events? Maybe something to think about. Almost all the other graphic novels I own are original, although there are some based on stories or novels. Perhaps the art matters, as those are drawn, well, better.

Of course, now I’ll need to re-read the stories, just to see what was left out of the manga versions, if anything. And, I have just one unread Murakami book to plow through. I do hope his next novel reaches the heights of previous good books, as his latest was a disappointment.

Houston Half-Marathon 2025

January 20, 2025 /

On January 19, 2025 I ran the Houston Half-Marathon. Temperatures at the start hovered around 31 Fahrenheit (just below 0 in Celsius), although a stiff wind from the north supposedly made it feel like 19 F (or -7 in Celsius). Those of us huddled in our corrals before the start certainly felt the wind. I wore two layers everywhere, plus gloves and a beanie, and still felt my face and arms slowly freezing in the morning air. I’m not sure I ever warmed up.

This was my first half-marathon in seven years, and my first in Houston, although 13 years ago I ran the full marathon in Houston. Back then it was my fastest marathon time, at the somewhat pedestrian result of 3 hours and 40 minutes. Now, many years older, and with a series of niggling injuries that have plagued me the past eight or so years (I ran my most recent pair of half-marathons while still dealing with injuries), I wanted to close the triangle with a half-marathon in Houston. That triangle: a marathon and half-marathon in Austin, San Antonio, and Houston. I’ll set aside Dallas for now, although that’s a future goal.

The Houston course is nearly pancake flat. I don’t remember much from the marathon back in 2012, aside from hitting the wall around mile 23 after an underpass and mirrored uphill climb. This year, we started out heading west, then turned south into a neighborhood. The course is sort of out and back, as we run, west, south, north and then east. At mile 8 or so the marathoners turned right, while those of us running the half went straight. Shortly thereafter the half-marathoners made a 270 degree turn around a large roundabout. At this point we fought the wind for 2.5 miles, although thankfully it was not constant. Looking at my splits, this was my slowest section (can I blame the wind?).

Just after mile 11 we headed back east toward downtown, thankfully away from the wind. Through miles 6 and 7 I’d felt fine, even passed quite a few runners. Even so, I tried to hold back; in this event my goal was to not walk, and overall just have fun (ha ha, you say, how is 13.1 miles any fun?). While going into the wind the reverse happened: quite a few runners passed me.

As we reached the towers in downtown, the wind at our backs picked up. I heard people behind me cheering as the tail-wind almost made us fly forward. At this point, I also saw some of the fast marathoner finishers zipping past us in their dedicated lane on the right. Even with half a mile to go, I held back. Stay the course, I told myself. Just get to the finish line. This is not a race, just a fun experience.

At the finish line, I looked at my watch for the first time since the start. Throughout the entire 13.1 miles (or so, as my watch—after the fact—told me that I’d run 13.22 miles) I forced myself not to focus on time, not to check any mile splits. For the past seven or eight years I’d been injured. I was older since I last ran any long distance events. Plus, the past three months had not been great in terms of training, what with the holidays and bad weather where I lived. I expected to finish just around 2 hours, well off my regular 1:43 or so times: instead, I finished in 1:54:06. Although this was my 11th slowest half marathon out of 12 events, I was elated: I had not walked, I was six minutes faster than what I expected. And, I actually finished. A few years ago I quit running, so just finishing this event was, to me at least, a victory.

Could I have run faster? Maybe, maybe not. The Houston course is flat. In fact, aside from the miles 9-11 or so, it was superb. Maybe, in better shape and without various injuries (hip, ankle), I might be able to run a good race and possibly PR. But, that’s all in the past. I’m not really in half-marathon shape at this point. Maybe I could sustain a good pace right now for a 5-miler, at tops, or a 5K if I was ambitious. Still, I felt great through those first miles—the pace was effortless, almost. After that, it was a more a matter of hanging on, not quitting. So, I was happy to finish.

As far as the event itself, I think Houston put on a great one. They can’t control the weather, and the Arctic front hitting that weekend was no fun. I do wish that the signs in the convention center were better, as I walked back and forth to find the entrance to registration. Also, I wish some fast food places were open in downtown on the weekend, as almost all were closed, at least those within walking distance of the hotel. Downtown on the weekend in Houston appears quite dead. Lots of homeless people, though, which is sad. I’m not sure I’ll be back again. I have other goals. The Dallas half-marathon beckons, since I’ve never run there. Also, Houston’s a long way to drive for me, and expensive for just the weekend.

But, if you want a flat course for 13.1 mile — go run the Houston half-marathon. You won’t regret it. I certainly didn’t. I’d love to run it again. I just don’t know if that will happen.

Book added: Night Visions 3

January 7, 2025 /

Published in 1986 by Dark Harvest, this anthology contains stories from Ramsey Campbell, Lisa Tuttle, and Clive Barker, and edited by George R. R. Martin (Martin would later have stories in Night Visions 5).

The sole remaining book in the “Night Visions” anthology series from Dark Harvest (1984 through 1991) that I did not own, and long on my want list. Purchased for $42 on the very last day of 2024. Though it’s not pristine, the book is in great condition. As a bonus, it’s signed by Lisa Tuttle, though this copy is the trade edition. Seven stories by Campbell, three by Tuttle, and the first appearance of Barker’s “The Hellbound Heart.”

Book added: David Silva’s Little White Lies

December 31, 2024 /

David B. Silva’s entry in the Borderlands Press little books series, A Little White Book of Lies, was until recently one of seven books in that series that I lacked (now down to six!). Originally published in 2005, this slim book is quite hard to find (I think I’ve seen it listed only once or twice in the past three years). Then again, that’s the fate for almost all the early Borderlands Press little books, ie. those published before 2006.

I found a copy online many months ago, but at that time considered it outside my budget. However, with a recently acquired gift card in hand, I secured the book for around $6 of my own money. Cheapskate? Opportunist? Maybe a bit of both. In my defense, I do buy the most recent ones direct from the publisher, and so they actually get my money, vs. dealers and resellers who bump up the prices to whatever the market can bear.

Silva’s books contains five stories, each centered around a lie, plus a brief introduction. Four of the stories have been published elsewhere, and one seems original to this collection.

This is first time (I think—correction: see below) that I’ve read anything by Silva. [Edited 1/2/2025: apparently I have read some of his stories before, as I found three anthologies in my book shelves with Silva stories: Night Visions 10 (Subterranean Press) with five stories, and one story each in Cold Blood (Ziesing) and Obsessions (Dark Harvest) and possible there are others.] From what I can tell, there is no Wikipedia entry on Silva, but Locus Magazine has an obituary, listing his death in 2013—eleven years (!) ago as I write this brief entry. According to that brief obituary, Silva died at the relatively young age of 62. Perhaps best known as the editor of The Horror Show (1982-1991), he also wrote a few novels and short stories.

Now, only six books in the series remain out of my grasp, and all are of the “insanely pricy” variety: Thomas Ligotti and Neil Gaiman I can understand; Joe Hill, maybe a rarity by association, although he’s been making a name for himself as well; Brian Keene and Josh Malerman, not sure why, but maybe I missed that bus; Douglas Winter, on the low end of the scale, yet still a worthy editor/writer. Prices for these books when they appear for sale (which is rare) range from $70 to $700. Quite a range there. Then again, I recently saw a copy of F. Paul Wilson’s book listed online for nearly $800. If ever there was a spit-take moment, that would be the time for one, as I bought it for a fraction of that price when it first was published. Still, with only 500 copies (for the most part) of these little books, and each numbered and signed, they’ll only get rarer. Unless I get lucky, this might be as fast as I go in the past, which is annoying, but acceptable.

Books added: F. Paul Wilson’s Sims novellas

December 29, 2024 /

Many years ago F. Paul Wilson wrote five novellas in the Sims “saga.” These novellas were published by Cemetery Dance between 2000 to 2010,. In between those dates, they were released as a novel by Tor Books in 2003. While the former novellas were limited, the novel from Tor was a mass market publication.

Why it took Cemetery Dance seven years after the novel was published to round out the five volumes remains a mystery to me. Each novella from Cemetery Dance was limited to 750 numbered copies, and signed by Wilson. As a Wilson fan, currently looking to fill in missing gaps of books published over the past few years, I never felt compelled to seek out these novellas, as I already had the collected set of novellas gathered in the book from Tor (inscribed to me by Wilson at the World Fantasy Convention in Austin, TX, in 2006, I think). However, when I found them listed this year from various sellers at prices well below the original listed price of $35 per book, I thought, “Why not?”

As I write this in 2024, I vaguely remember the plot of Sims, the novel. I know that I read it back then, and voted for it when it was nominated for the Prometheus Award. Over 20 years had passed since I last thought about this story. When I picked up the five individual novellas this year, I re-read them in that format. I was surprised at how little I remembered, yet also at some of the details that remained stuck in my memory.

The first book, La Causa, sets the stage. The world of Sims, much like the five-book world of the LaNague Federation, is independent of Wilson’s Secret History saga. Here, genetically enhanced chimpanzees are cheap labor (more like slaves; not to dissimilar from the clones in Dydeetown World), even acting as caddies on golf courses (or worse, as we’ll see). A young lawyer, Patrick Sullivan, gets asked by some of the sims to represent them to form a labor union, and takes the case. This puts him in opposition to SimGen, the company that created and owns the sims. Their attempts to intimidate him only makes him dig in his heels harder, and he ends up embracing their cause. Meanwhile, another character, Romy Cadman, works for the government investigating research risks, while at the same time moonlights for a shadowy person trying to bring down SimGen. Her handler in this group goes by Zero, wears a mask to hide his features, and seems to have insider knowledge into the plans and workings of SimGen. At once we have multiple, yet intersecting, conflicts with many potentials.

The second installment, The Portero Method, brings Sullivan closer together with Romy. Portero is the security head of SimGen, but also seems to be working for another group, one that occupies the shadows. The Portero method is harsh, brutal, and throws a major wrench in Sullivan’s unionizing attempts. It also drives into the same group as Romy and Zero, now even more determined to bring down SimGen.

The third, Meerm, introduces a new character, and a new element to the story, one that will bring everything to a crashing climax. Meerm is another sim, on the run from a low-budget gene-lab, yet one with the potential to bring down SimGen, and the race is on to find this sim. Three groups are trying to find her: Portero’s two employers, as well as Zero’s cell.

The fourth, Zero, focuses on the person behind the mask. As the prime mover against SimGen, Zero has hired both Patrick Sullivan and Romy Cadman, hiding behind a mask the entire time. We learn of his ties to SimGen, giving him inside information. The hunt for Meerm ratchets up, with multiple groups trying to find this pregnant sim.

The fifth and final entry, Thy Brother’s Keeper, ties it all together. Everything erupts when we learn of Zero’s identity, and the ending is both heroic and tragic. Meerm’s baby seals the fate of SimGen, although the true origin of the sims remains a secret the public will never know. Lives are shattered, and it’s not just a happy ending for everyone. Wilson truly keeps everyone on their toes.

With this stack of books in hand, signed and numbered, each limited to 750 copies, I wonder if owning them is any different from owning the Tor edition of Sims? My Tor edition of Sims is inscribed to me by Wilson, and although all the five novellas are signed, does this equate to talking to Wilson, handing him a book and getting it returned as inscribed? On one level, it doesn’t. And yet, the Tor book was printed in thousands of copies, while the Cemetery Dance books had a much lower print run. They also contain illustrations that the Tor book edition did not. I sometimes struggle between the idea of a collector and a fan. I’m a fan of FPW, but as a collector, I’m more random and haphazard in my actions. Yet, for some weird reason, owning these five books gives me a thrill that the Tor Books edition never gave me. Why is that? Is that some innate human behavior, or just a focused aspect of some obsessive compulsive disorder?

Books added: F. Paul Wilson’s The Hidden

December 28, 2024 /

The Upwelling, Book I of The Hidden (2024). Written a few years before Wilson’s recent stroke, this is the first in a two book series, but just published this year. Given that he vowed to not write any Repairman Jack books after Nightworld (although he filled in a few earlier gaps with a pair of trilogies), this series might be seen as Wilson’s attempt to break away from Repairman Jack, yet still remain within his Secret History world. (Double Dose and Double Threat also fall into that category). It’s likely also Wilson’s last work of fiction. (That’s a sad sentence to write….)

Initially published as a trade paperback under the imprint of Crossroad Press Publishing (whatever that means), it now looks like Gauntlet Press will publish the book in a limited hardcover edition. Per their website, only the 26 lettered editions will bear Wilson’s signature, which is to be expected given his recent stroke.

I don’t think I was aware of either of these books until recently this year, when I saw some online review. In this novel, our protagonist, Chan Liao awakens to find a missing chunk of his memory. Along with three friends he spends a weekend at Atlantic City. In the span of a few hours the entire Atlantic City area was essentially vaporized, and he has no recollection of the events. Over 25,000 people died, and he has no idea where he was or what happened. One of those three friends, Danielle “Danni” Boudreau, an FBI agent, is in the same situation—no memory of what happened. This is an intriguing premise. Wilson quickly moves the location to the familiar New Jersey Pine Barrens. In the course of events he introduces a group of people with strangely enhanced abilities: two dead people refuse to burn, others claim to be thousands of years old. Chan and Boudreau trace events and actors to a mountain in upstate New York. Hints of the Ally and the Otherness, well-known players from the Repairman Jack series, make themselves known, along with a new entity, name the Squatter. Events come to a head, which lead into the sequel.

Lexie, Book II of The Hidden (2024). Picking up right after the events of The Hidden, Lexie brings various humans related to the Ally and the Otherness to the fore. These are well-known to Repairman Jack readers: the Septimus Order, and (perhaps less so) the Yeniçeri. Lexie also introduces “the Troika” three individuals who are aware of the Secret History: the two main players behind the scenes, and certain people linked to another of Wilson’s novels, Signalz (but, strangely, not Jack himself).

The namesake of the second book is an enhanced (super-intelligent?) seven year old, the offspring of a Squatter-enhanced and a normal human. This person, Lexie, can walk between parallel worlds, as well as possessing other powers. She’s highly intelligent, and conversely has zero emotions and empathy (think Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory). Along with Chao and Danni, she is needed to try to save the world, at least this one, given the multi-verse aspect of these novels. Although Jack is alluded to at one point as “the Defender” (or is that Glaeken?), we’re never sure if this is the same world as Repairman Jack, given the multi-verse aspect of the books.

I admit that I read the books quickly, as happens to be the case when I read FPW books. I have a few quibbles here and there with choices and actions, but overall I enjoyed the two books. There are many unanswered questions at the end. Perhqps, if FPW wasn’t burdened by his stroke, he might have rewritten certain scenes, or worked in a third book. The ending just seems unsatisfactory. Chan harbors a great love for Boudreau, and while she considers him a friend, she’s stated multiple times her lesbian leanings. This situation just never seemed like it reached a resolution, though Liao had other options given to him. Wilson also cheats multiple times by writing Liao as a “Bruce Lee” look-alike, which gives him zero character as an individual. Perhaps I’m just annoyed that the events appear to be part of his Secret History and yet avoid all mention of Repairman Jack. I guess that’s just my feelings at play.

More thoughts on Haruki Murakami

December 26, 2024 /

I can’t remember the first novel of Haruki Murakami that I read. Many years ago, during the time when I ran marathons (2010-2013), my brother gave me a copy of Murakami’s slim non-fiction book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. This book, published in 2007, is one that I have read many times. Back then, I thought of Murakami as a fellow runner, even though he’s run major marathons like Boston and New York, and I will never sniff either one of those events. I knew next to nothing about his fiction career.

However, a year or so after reading his book around running, I bought one of Murakami’s novels (I don’t remember which one, maybe Norwegian Wood, maybe not). I liked it well enough that I bought another, and then another. At some point Murkami became one my favorite writers of all time, and I sought out and read all of his books. I even named a fiction detective in a one of my own attempts of writing fiction after Murakami. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Kafka on the Shore, and 1Q84 remain my favorites. Including the two books mentioned below, I now own 24 of Murakami’s books. When a writer speaks to you in a language (and style) that you understand, it’s amazing how one book becomes 24.

For Christmas 2025 I was given two relatively new Murakami books. One is a collection of essays, Novelist as a Vocation. The other is his most recent novel, The City and Its Uncertain Walls. Most of his books I’ve bought in the trade paperback editions. The three exceptions are The City (2024), Killing Commendatore (2018 – which I bought in Norway a couple of years ago), and a fun version of the novella, The Strange Library (2014).

Novelist as a Vocation is a collection of eleven essays on the craft of writing, at least how Murakami sees it. In the course of reading his other books I’ve gleaned a sentence or paragraph that might find a home in one of these essays. Still, I look forward to reading about them in more detail.

The City and Its Uncertain Walls is Murakami’s latest work of fiction. Despite trying to avoid reviews and spoilers, I’ve encountered one or two while coming across his name online in mentions about this book. What I know before I read the book is this: it started a while ago as an idea, a fragment, and Murakami didn’t like where it went at the time. Then, at some moment, it made sense to him as a story. Some reviewers aren’t too keen on the book, or part of the book. I’ll reserve my own judgment until I read the book. Murakami’s style and pace isn’t for everyone, but for some reason both speak directly to my soul.

Every year Murakami is mentioned as a candidate for the Nobel Prize in literature. Every year his name is passed over. It’s quite likely that he’ll never get this award. Instead, some obscure writer’s name will appear, and so it goes each year. Meanwhile, like the maverick writer that he is, he’ll write whatever’s important to him, critics and awards be damned. Arigatou gozaimasu, Murakami-sama!

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