Wild Horses
Spoke Too Soon
22/08/10 21:39 Filed in: Reading
So maybe, just maybe, I wrote too soon. After reading
about 40 pages of Dick Francis' 33rd mystery,
Wild Horses, I wrote him off. He's tapering
off, I thought. Lost his mojo.
Well, Dick, I apologise. Wild Horses finally found its feet and turned out to be pretty good. And the next novel, Come To Grief, is a cracker. From the first line.
Of course, Sid Halley helps. Halley is probably Francis' best known protagonist and Come To Grief is his third appearance as the centre of attention. Perhaps to shake the lethargy, Francis writes much of his novel as an extended flashback and it works very well. He tells us who the bad guy is from the first page and we're lured into caring deeply about how Halley fingered him as the evil doer and what the consequences will be for Halley himself of pointing the finger at such a well-loved public figure as being responsible for such heinous crimes.
Francis adds a very sympathetic young client and a rebellious teen and he's got a novel that works on many levels.
I wish I could write like that. I wish I could find the time (and the energy) to write at all. I spent today golfing (an up-and-down 18 holes) and finishing up the branch trimming exercise so I'm exhausted heading into a week when work will be just revving up for the new school year.
Well, Dick, I apologise. Wild Horses finally found its feet and turned out to be pretty good. And the next novel, Come To Grief, is a cracker. From the first line.
Of course, Sid Halley helps. Halley is probably Francis' best known protagonist and Come To Grief is his third appearance as the centre of attention. Perhaps to shake the lethargy, Francis writes much of his novel as an extended flashback and it works very well. He tells us who the bad guy is from the first page and we're lured into caring deeply about how Halley fingered him as the evil doer and what the consequences will be for Halley himself of pointing the finger at such a well-loved public figure as being responsible for such heinous crimes.
Francis adds a very sympathetic young client and a rebellious teen and he's got a novel that works on many levels.
I wish I could write like that. I wish I could find the time (and the energy) to write at all. I spent today golfing (an up-and-down 18 holes) and finishing up the branch trimming exercise so I'm exhausted heading into a week when work will be just revving up for the new school year.
Lost and Found
18/08/10 21:34 Filed in: Reading
It was on the microwave, behind a thank-you card.
Hidden, sure, but not lost forever. Hooray.
I am amazed at just how relieved and happy I felt when I finally spotted my copy of Dick Francis' Wild Horses late yesterday afternoon, after having missed it for almost a week. I am nearing the end of a journey through Francis and I felt totally at sea when the 1994 novel went missing.
I even went to a used book store and a campus book store, looking to buy a replacement. I'm so used to having something to read (and for the last three months that something has been Dick Francis) that I was entirely thrown off by not having the book around. And I didn't feel like I could move on to Francis' next novel: I'm committed to reading them all in order and I was NOT going to break the string, no matter how desperate I felt.
The only problem is, Wild Horses is not a great novel. I have now arrived at the stage of Francis' career where, in my opinion at least, he started to wind it down. The ideas grew stale, the writing more lazy and stilted, the characters flatter and less interesting.
Oh well, I think Wild Horses is number 33 in his collected works so I guess I should cut him some slack. It's not awful. It's just not great.
But I found it! I'm going to glory in the delight of that moment for a while.
I am amazed at just how relieved and happy I felt when I finally spotted my copy of Dick Francis' Wild Horses late yesterday afternoon, after having missed it for almost a week. I am nearing the end of a journey through Francis and I felt totally at sea when the 1994 novel went missing.
I even went to a used book store and a campus book store, looking to buy a replacement. I'm so used to having something to read (and for the last three months that something has been Dick Francis) that I was entirely thrown off by not having the book around. And I didn't feel like I could move on to Francis' next novel: I'm committed to reading them all in order and I was NOT going to break the string, no matter how desperate I felt.
The only problem is, Wild Horses is not a great novel. I have now arrived at the stage of Francis' career where, in my opinion at least, he started to wind it down. The ideas grew stale, the writing more lazy and stilted, the characters flatter and less interesting.
Oh well, I think Wild Horses is number 33 in his collected works so I guess I should cut him some slack. It's not awful. It's just not great.
But I found it! I'm going to glory in the delight of that moment for a while.