For many years Dean Koontz (and I still have paperbacks and hardbacks from the days when he was known as Dean R Koontz) has been among my top 5 favourite writers, one of those whose books I ritually buy as soon as the hardcover is released. I remember plenty of classics such as Strangers, Lightning, Phantoms, Twilight Eyes, Midnight, Intensity and one of my all time favourites, Whispers, among many others. I have been reading some reviews over the last few years that have berated Koontz latest offerings, and I can’t help but feel there are probably two schools of people in this – those who remember the old stuff, and those who are coming cold to the new stuff. In either case, it would be hard to put the “new stuff” up there with the best, and all I can suggest to those who read Koontz’s more recent offerings, is to go back and read Whispers or Strangers, because whatever he writes now, Koontz has written some of the best modern thriller fiction ever written.
Unfortunately, The Husband, although a good enough read, does not fit into the category of Koontz’s best. I know there are particular market forces that are driving even bestselling horror writers away from the spooky genre and into the more “mainstream thriller” but I cannot imagine why someone of Koontz’s reputation, wealth, and sheer publishing clout would need to depart quite so completely from the stuff that is his trademark. Even when they get bad, there are few Koontz books that I don’t thoroughly enjoy reading, because there is usually something to redeem it, whether it be pace, plot, or character; however in The Husband, I felt I had come across a book that hadn’t really been written by the Dean of suspense himself, but by a lesser mortal. That’s not to say it can’t be enjoyed on a flight or on the beach, or curled up on the sofa, but it certainly lacks the dynamite and that certain je ne sais quoi that permeates many of the better books. The book starts off with an interesting enough premise, a poor gardener is suddenly told his wife has been kidnapped and they want 2 million dollars from him, and to prove a point they shoot dead a complete stranger while he watches powerlessly. Although the guy has no money, he is told he will need to raise it or his wife dies, and from what we find out later, things that should pop into his head at that point simply don’t, and are kept parcelled up until the story finds it convenient to release them, which is one of its main flaws.
A lot of people have berated Koontz’s love of and trust in human nature, the “goody goodyness” of his heroes, but I have found on the main this to be a bearable trait, and have liked many of his good characters, especially the ones with flaws,and most of them have had at least some flaws to make them human. Unfortunately this fellow and his wife don’t appear to have any flaws, and they both love each other more than any couple have ever loved each other before, a fact which Koontz is at pains to keep reminding us of. It’s there that some of the realism is lost for me, as if you’re going through a divorce, having a rough time, are a lonely single, or in an unhappy marriage, it is hard to empathise with people who’s relationship is so perfect, so sweet, so sickly, that instead the opposite reaction might set in, and the reader could actually get a bit jealous and think, well, they got it soooo good, they need a little pain to join the rest of the human race! In any case, as I ploughed through the novel, for the first time in a Koontz offering (apart from, perhaps, the second half of The Taking), I found myself not particularly caring what happened, because the characters seemed so blessed, whatever bad things happened it was inevitable that there would be a happy ending.
In fact when the end does come, it comes rather quickly, and I felt some suspense could have been created and sustained, but even the final twist falls a bit flat. And certainly, Koontz has written mainstream books before (just plain old bad guy books), but they have usually contained bad guys with a twist, bad guys nobody else could have thought of – take the villain of Intensity, for example!
I didn’t know how this review was going to turn out when I started writing it, and I am a bit shocked at how negative it is. I think the problem is, if I had read The Husband and it had been by anyone else, I would have thought it an OK read, but I’ve probably been spoiled! Koontz is still one of my top 5 living authors, and I hope he writes to his full potential again, I have spent so many hundreds of happy hours on the edge of my bed reading Dean Koontz novels, and there are ones I will read again and again in years to come – One Door Away From Heaven, From the Corner of His Eye, Odd Thomas, Midnight, Whispers, Seize The Night (where the hell is the third book in that trilogy?!) and Watchers to name but a few. I am not sure what the rationale is behind producing stuff such as The Husband, but I do hope Koontz’s next offering will be more, well… more Koontz 
1 Comment
As a meditator with some six months’ experience, I have gone some way on my path of meditation. Although it is a lifelong path, my first footsteps have started my journey, and even the longest journeys start with a single footstep. It has been interesting that in my personal journey over the last year, I have listened to many voices offering advice, all of which have helped greatly, but often the voice we ignore is the most important one: our own. My meditation practice has resulted so far in greater confidence, a calmer outlook on day today problems, greater ability to manage stress, and enhanced creativity coupled with more positive thinking. It is true to say that it has been one of the more worthwhile additions to my life in recent years.
Of course the only real way to learn meditation is to meditate – you could read all the books in the world on meditation and be very knowledgeable about the subject, without knowing what the meditation experience actually holds (for in many ways this cannot be put into words, it can only be experienced directly). However, we all need teachers, and although the best teachers are human ones, in person, books have always been an excellent substitute for those keen to learn and research. On my meditative journey, a number of books have proved very useful indeed in providing information on meditation theories, practices and techniques, enabling me to get started, and if not taking me on the journey, at least offering me signposts in the right direction. I will be looking at these books in due course on this book reviews blog, but for now I will start with a book that provides an excellent introduction for beginners, and the wealth of information inside may also be useful as a refresher for experienced meditatoThe converse of something I said earlier is also true – just because someone is an experienced meditator, does not mean that they know all about the theory and practice (indeed practices) of meditation. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Mediation is therefore a useful book for meditators at all different kinds of stages on their journey, and is most definitely not for idiots!
Written by Joan Budilovsky and Eve Adamson, The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Mediation is succinct and comprehensive, giving enough information about all aspects of meditation to whet the appetite of the curious, equip the intrepid and inform the experienced. Like all Idiot’s Guides it is broken into easily digestible chunks, and need not be read all at once, but is the kind of book that can be dipped into, although I would recommend reading it all the way through in the first instance. I certainly found myself marking off segments which I would return to later. So, in plain English, the book offers information on how to find a meditation class if appropriate, how to use mantras and healing sounds, how to use visually based meditation techniques, how meditation can improve health, how to breathe properly when meditating, and explores meditation with yoga practice and poses, as well as different meditation techniques from around the world. There’s a summary of Zen techniques, tips for learning how to use meditation in daily life, such as in stressful situations, an exploration of the connections between mediation, sleep and dreams, and it also has some useful diagrams and photographs showing possible poses for meditation practice.
A lot of people claim they don’t have time to meditate, and there is certainly no point in trying to force or cajole people into meditating if they are not, at this time, interested – it would simply be impossible. When you’re ready to begin you’re meditative journey, you’re ready, and if you’re not, you’re not. However, I can honestly say that since I began meditating (now for around an hour a day), I seem to have a lot more time, my mind is more focused so I get things done more quickly, and if I happen to be behind schedule or have a deadline, it doesn’t seem to be a life and death matter any more, and believe me I used to suffer very much from stress and anxiety (although please note that I still do suffer from these, but the meditation has been a very useful addition to my armoury, and proves to be more effective the more I do it – one thing this book will tell you is that having too many expectations about meditation is why many people give up when a few sessions don’t transform there lives!) For sure we are all busy, and meditation may not be for everyone – but with a book like this available there is no longer an excuse to put off finding out at least a little more about meditation. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Mediation can be read over a few weeks, perhaps on the train or bus, perhaps 10 minutes a day during a lunch break. Indeed, you might even get so intrigued you make more time! Just analyse how much time you spend, say, chatting with a colleague, or watching soap operas, or perhaps moaning or worrying! Believe me, reading this book could change you life – although it is more likely rather to set you on a life-changing path, or give you potential for this, or perhaps less dramatically give you some food for thought about the mysteries of meditation
1 Comment
To the paternally or maternally minded, the question “Is there any point having children?” must seem ludicrous, not to say unnatural, but there are people who ask this question. To echo Lionel Schriver in We Need To Talk About Kevin, if you’re in your mid thirties, successful, and happily married, why complicate things by having offspring – why RUIN things, in fact. Ok, people speak of bringing a little bundle of joy into the world, making new life – but little bundles of joy tend ot pee and puke and vomit quite a lot, never mind the fact they soon grow up, and end up being not so little bundles of hormones, aggression, neuroses and if parents are really unlucky, criminal violence. I have personally seen several colleagues on the verge of burnout due to the problems they’ve had with troublesome teenagers who were true angels until they reached that somehow magical number of years, and indeed who have been so well brought up, with all they could need and want, that their rebellious “wish you were all dead” natures could not possibly be a result of nurture, but indeed seeing as it doesn’t run in the family, how does nature come into it? The nature versus nurture concept is one raised in the book by this incisive writing in the epistolary format with an incisive style and at times remarkable turn of phrase; as she writes a series of letters to her husband, we are given a disturbing look into a pair of lives where the only way to find an answer to the question “is there any point having children” is to actually have one, and while the book sees this question answered to some extent by the end, at least from the narrator’s point of view, the answer is by no means clear. One thing we do learn is that having a difficult child, indeed having a child at all, can be one hell of a ride.
I had not read anything by Shriver before, as I usually stick to certain genres, so I am grateful to my friend Louise for giving me the volume for my birthday. The book certainly raises as many questions as it answers – and in particular the fact that one of the protagonists is also the sole narrator of events, giving us cause to question perhaps how much the truth has been edited for the sake of her pride, respect in the eyes of the reader, or sanity. Still, as much as some will detest this woman, despise her, I found myself enjoying the process of getting to know her, for although she might not have the happiest tale to tell, she tells it honestly (even if she hides some things, the things she does tell are told in technicolor) and even brutally, and has an almost poisonous wit at times. As I am not a mother I can only guess at what mothers will think of her, especially at some very particular moments – do they emphathise with her, sympathise, understand her? Or do they unconsciously do these things while their conscious censor forces them to despise her, to say “No mother could be like that…” Very intriguing – I certainly hope Schriver isn’t drawing on personal experience lest her offspring read the book and become damaged
The writing is well done and thoughtfully constructed, with a style that is polished and economical, falling just this side of the “literary”, although tabloid enthusiasts may struggle. The story itself has a number of, if not twists, at least brutal turns for the unexpected. I am not sure if other Lionel Schriver books are in a similar vein to this one, but based on this evidence of We need to talk about Kevin, I would certainly be willing to give another one a try. Thanks very much Louise for an enjoyable and though-provoking read for my Birthday
1 Comment