dann@wxlvax.UUCP (Dan Neiman) (03/27/84)
Well, I've done it again, scooped up a couple of SF paperbacks without
checking the back page for (Part II of the Foo the Barbarian Saga will
be published sometime in 1995). It seems they've stopped noting the
fact that the book is part of a series on the cover. It seems that
most readers have probably caught onto the fact that most N-part series
are hastily written piles of dragon spew with no valid reason for
existence including the possession of entertainment value.
The books I'm referring to are Spell Singer (Alan Dean Foster) whose
sequel is Hour of the Gate, and The River of the Dancing Gods by Jack
Chalker. Well I should have been forewarned, both of these authors
are hacks from way back but trusting in strange and none to reliable
gods, I bought them anyways.
Spell Singer was a mostly harmless, slightly too cute, alternate
universe story about a drugged out college student who gets goniffed
into a magic using Universe in order to save it from some unknown but
terrible threat. It turns out that the kid's a natural (naturally)
with a talent for invoking spells through music. (Does this sound
familiar or does this sound familiar?). Well, I'd be happier if the
kid had to sweat some for his magic powers, and the plot is sort of
threadbare, but handled in the right way this could work.
Unfortunately, A. Dean Foster ain't got no style, and not a heck of a
lot of creativity either. Part 1 of Spell Singer peters out (suddenly
and without much happening) and then the Hour of the Gate turns *really*
bad. We're talking cliches here, we're talking the cavalry coming over
the hill, we're talking the final battle scene with the Wizard, the
Dark Forces, the secret weapon which is just after all nothing so very
terrible, we're talking the hero saving the day in a last minute display
of technicolor magic virtuosity, we're talking extremely dull
predictable ending. Foo.
Then I ran across Chalker's River of the Dancing Gods. I once had
hope for Chalker. The Well World was creative and original, marred
only by a writing style second only to Piers Anthony in the lack of
style and imagery and the possession of characters who left splinters
on your brains (Is this where we got Splinter of the Mind's Eye?).
So let's see if Chalker has improved....He has not. Dancing Gods reads
like the sketch of a work, the plot is there, the characters are there,
they move to the conclusion of the book in an undeviating line, and it's
all shallow as hell. If Chalker spent more than two months writing this
opus, I'd be shocked. And what's really bad is that Chalker waits till
the last line with his little joke, which is that he intends to inflict
more of this Finagle-cursed dreck on the unwitting populace.
So consider yourself warned. This stuff is the science fiction
equivalent of Top 40 music. It's got as much substance to it as
Coca Cola. Avoid it.
dann