Wild Thrower

[maribou]

The Lance Thrower, by Jack Whyte
Lancelot as a Frank named Clothar. As retellings of Arthur go, it's not the best, far from the worst, but I keep reading him because of felicitous phrases like this one: "more beautiful than a week-old fawn or a well-trained falcon". I like that, and I'll slog through any amount of military strategy and psychoanalyzing for more such. (Not that it's bad military strategy and psychoanalyzing, just a bit ... slogful.)
(59/300)

The Wild Shore, by Kim Stanley Robinson (reread)
I can lay claim to only a handful of very small talents, but I would not normally be willing to cede them in exchange for one great and specific genius. Generally, I like being a little bit good at numerous things. But if I could consistently write novels that meant as much to me as those of Kim Stanley Robinson, I'd let go my cherished minor gifts in about two seconds. Even this journeyman work of Robinson's, written in 1984 before his skills had reached their apex, brims over with insight and mythical depth and odd random shiny bits. And, you know, it's post-apocalyptical survival fiction that owes lots to Charles Dickens and Mark Twain. I dig that.
(60/300)

Comments

[spinnerin-ftw.livejournal.com]

I just read The Wild Shore too. I've been looking out for books in that trilogy when I'm at Powell's, because they seem to be less commonly available than I'd expect. Just need to find the third now. They're interestingly imperfect books, but I like that.

[maribou]

I know I've read the Gold Coast, and I didn't remember that I'd read this one before, but eventually realized that I had. I too am looking forward to reading all three. (I think I *have* it - one of the advantages of having worked at a used bookstore for so long - but it's somewhere lost in one of the other advantages of having worked at a used bookstore for so long, the incredibly large piles of unread books.)

And yeah, interestingly imperfect is a lot more satisfying than flawless but sterile.