#BookReview: Beautiful prose isn't enough

 The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years, by Shubnum Khan (Viking)

I wanted to like this book. I really did, and for the first 20% or so, I enjoyed it. The setting – a mouldering old house in Durban, South Africa – the widow and his teenaged daughter, Sana, whose way of experiencing the world is as richly lyrical as it is unusual, the other inhabitants of the house. Add to that the mystery of what happened in the house and why it’s haunted by a festering, evil djinn, and all these elements carried the opening.

Alas, it’s a high wire act to use setting and character as the forward momentum of a novel, no matter how vivid they may be in their own right. This is not to say that a novel cannot be focused on character or setting, only that the energy driving the story must arise from them, catapulting events into dramatic tension. Otherwise, the story drifts from one interesting or amusing incident to the next, dissipating engagement and curiosity about what’s going on and why.

This was my experience, although of course, other readers may have a different take on this book. It was always about to get going and then sinking back into stasis. Things that might have been charming crotchets, like the humorous friction between the house’s inhabitants, turned into irritations when it seemed that was all there was to the story. I never could figure out why Sana had such an unusual way of experiencing the world because her semi-hallucinatory state never varied. Without question, the prose is beautiful, filled with offbeat connections and unusual ways of interpreting reality.

For me, as a reader, however, “lyrically stunning” can go only so far in overcoming “lack of story tension.” The book went from always-getting-started to drifting to slog, in which I found myself looking for something else to do besides reading it.

As usual, your mileage may vary.

[Reprint] Are public executions true to American values?

 

In newly independent US, Americans debated whether public executions taught a lesson or just showed off the state’s power to destroy

A 1747 print of a public execution at the so-called Tyburn Tree, a gallows in London that served for hundreds of years as a site of hangings. William Hogarth

Maurizio Valsania, Università di Torino

The proposed livestream of Nidal Hasan’s execution by a U.S. military firing squad gives an old question a new audience. Hasan, an Army psychiatrist convicted by a military court of killing 13 people at Fort Hood in Texas in 2009, is scheduled to be executed on Dec. 3, 2026.

Explaining the plan to make his death public, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth said that “people need to understand … there’s serious consequences for these types of things.”

Whether the broadcast will proceed remains uncertain. But as a historian of the early American republic, I recognize a familiar expectation behind it: that watching someone die will teach a useful lesson. Americans at the republic’s founding debated that premise — and doubted what the lesson might be.

The power of government

On Aug. 17, 1797, New Yorkers gathered to watch John Young hang.

An English musician and music publisher struggling with debt, Young had shot and killed Robert Barwick, a deputy sheriff taking him into custody. Barwick left a widow and nine children.

Young’s conviction by a jury brought him to a scaffold surrounded by soldiers, before an immense crowd.

Governor John Jay, a leading Federalist who placed greater faith in firm government than in popular judgment, had authorized the military presence after the sheriff reported fears of a rescue. But Jay also wanted the execution to impress its witnesses with the power of the government carrying it out.

Writing to James Kent, New York City’s chief municipal legal officer, two days before the hanging, Jay stressed that the authority of law should prevail visibly. The occasion should be “particularly solemn and impressive,” he said. The “authority of the law should be seen to bear down (on) all opposition.”

Solemnity, however, proved difficult to arrange. The military escort played lively music as the procession made its way to the scaffold. One newspaper critic thought an uninformed passerby might mistake the spectacle for “the celebration of some Festival.”

Soldiers formed a square around the gallows. The crowd remained orderly. Young addressed a few words to the minister, sang a psalm “and with great composure pulled his cap over his face,” reported one newspaper. Then, before the assembled witnesses, he was hanged.

Loss of government’s dignity

Whatever the crowd’s reaction that day, the public execution had already become an argument about the nature of government.

#BookReviews: Another Gem from Charlaine Harris

 All the Dead Shall Weep, by Charlaine Harris (Saga)

I’m a long-time fan of Charlaine Harris, and she gets better all the time. All the Dead Shall Weep, the fifth installment in her “Gunnie Rose” series, is a showcase of her strengths: vivid characters, a gritty and believable post-apocalytic world with diverse cultures, and superb handling of dramatic tension and pacing. All conveyed in deceptively simple, evocative prose that captures the nuanced emotional literacy of the viewpoint characters (Lizbeth Rose and her sister, the fugitive grigori Felicia). Her portrayal of the resilience and resourcefulness of poor residents of Texoma is both stark and compassionate.

Newly weds Lizbeth and Eli, along with Felicia and Eli’s brother, Peter, take refuge in Lizbeth’s home town after fleeing the Holy Russian Empire in San Diego. Soon, they’re besieged by strange magic-wielders seeking to court Felicia because of her powerful death magic, and those with even more nefarious aims. Matters explode when armed paramilitary ride into town. Part mystery, part love story, all wrapped up in breathless, page-turner action.

The entire series is highly recommended.

 

World Fantasy Convention Schedule!

I will be at the World Fantasy Convention in Oakland. Come say hi!

Friday Mass autographing in the Grand Ballroom 8-10 pm;

Saturday, 10:00 AM - 11:00 AM, Room 202: Typing Uphill Both Ways… What’s the Trick? with Michael Kurland, Bruce McAllister, Sharon Shinn, and moderator Tim Melody Pratt

Saturday 5:00 PM - 6:30 PM, Salon 3 & 4: READING: Treehouse Writers Group with Chaz Brenchley, Nancy Jane Moore, Pat Murphy, and Madeleine Robins.

My Mother Was Murdered, and That's Why I Oppose the Death Penalty

I am appalled by the recent rush to executions, horrified by the possibility of a televised firing squad, and deeply disturbed by the two botched attempts, and this is why:

In 1986, my 70-year-old mother was asleep in her own bed when a teenage neighbor broke into her home, raped her, and then beat her to near death and left her face down in a partially filled bathtub. It was a spectacularly brutal, banner headline crime, called by the District Attorney one of the most heinous in the history of the county.

Even in light of what happened, I am opposed to capital punishment, and I'd like to tell you why. I want to emphasize that I do not speak for anyone else. We all have different experiences, different histories, different internal and external resources. If there is one thing I'd like you to take away from my story, it is that not all the families of murder victims want the perpetrators to be executed.

I believe that capital punishment harms the survivors by interfering with the natural recovery process. In other words, when we focus on revenge instead of healing, we never heal.

A number of years ago, when I was being interviewed about my mother's death, the interviewer said to me, “You seem like such a sweet person. Most of us just aren't that spiritual.” What she meant was, “How could you not want revenge?” What I thought was, You have no idea how angry I was and how much I wanted to hurt the man who did this.

The rage I felt and that I've heard expressed by other murder survivors is so overwhelming, it's hard to find words to describe it. You feel as if your skin is going to crack open and out will pour enough molten hatred to incinerate the entire world. For years after my mother's murder, I obsessed over exactly how I would kill the perpetrator with my bare hands and how much I wanted him to suffer for every moment of terror and pain he'd caused her. The images were so vivid, I couldn't tell if I was awake or dreaming.

Adrenaline-fueled anger enables us to get through those early days and weeks. It sharpens our senses and focuses our thoughts. Our hearts pump faster. Biologically, we are primed to do whatever is necessary to meet the threat. We don't feel our own injuries, either of body or of mind or spirit. All our resources are devoted to our immediate survival. In some circumstances, this lasts only a short period of time. I know people who have lost loved ones to murder, but in that same incident, the murderer was also killed. At the other extreme are instances where the perpetrator is never discovered and the survivors must cope with the nightmare of walking down the street, suspecting every passer-by or wondering if the murderer has taken another life. I know people in that situation, too.

Anger and the craving for revenge are normal reactions when someone you love has been viciously attacked, their dignity as well as their lives stripped from them.  At the same time, these feelings fuel the illusion that retribution erases pain, and popular media constantly reinforce this illusion.