Triffids Beard 2 - The Bearded Triffid

Bushell of the Royal American Mounted Police.
The book is a curates egg. The writers are far too self indulgent in their introduction of characters from
our reality into theirs, just so that they can smile archly. There is, for example, a used car salesman
called Tricky Dick (presumably from Yore Belinda) and a certain John F. Kennedy also makes an
appearance. Martin Luther King is the colonial governor and consequently has a very large part to play in
the action of the book.
Considering that the writers are American, I find it most impressive that they have managed to get so
well into the skin of the British colonial mentality. The currency used in the colony is still pounds, shillings
and pence and amazingly they get the arithmetic right (the British currency was deliberately designed to
confuse Americans, and it succeeded brilliantly). They even successfully come to grips with the guinea
and most properly realise that it was not only a unit of currency, it was also a measure of social
standing. This subtlety often defeats American commentators, but Turtledove and Dreyfuss are spot on.
However they fall flat on their face with some of the language: "...whom will you send out into the field to
investigate?" (If only they'd swapped the words and said "whom you will" instead and changed it from a
question into a statement).
This terrible mis-use of the accusative would never pass the lips of English speakers, (though it is
common in current American usage) and I found it intrusive for it seems to be a construction of which
Dreyfuss and Turtledove are inordinately fond.
The book as a whole is enormous fun. The society pictured is rather like that of the early years of our
twentieth century. Airships cruise the skies and trains criss-cross the continent at frequent intervals.
The pace of life is leisurely. The hunt for the painting takes our hero over much of the colony and the
travelogue aspects of the book are most enjoyable. The standard whodunit aspects are less than thrilling
and the twist at the end is not unexpected. But the strengths far outweigh the weaknesses and I
strongly recommend the book to all you alternate history fans out there.
The next instalment of Stephen King's serial novel is in the shops. Another $4.95 paperback with 92
pages and the most godawful cliff-hanger at the end. I'm not sure I can stand the tension for another
month, but I'm going to have to I suppose. I am a big Stephen King fan and this one is shaping up to be
one of his best. No doubt it will eventually be published as a single work, but meanwhile I'm going to have
to read it in chunks and chew my fingernails in between times.
The indescribable Robert Rankin has written another indescribable book whose title is A Dog Called
Demolition. The book has lots of verse as chapter headings (until just over half way through when the
author gets tired of it) and comes complete with a sound track album on page 249. In between times
several people with a bandaged left foot have adventures. It would appear that everybody on earth is
being ridden by pale ghostly grey alien figures that control their every thought and action. Well at least
that is one point of view. If you examine it from the point of view of the riders you could say that their
world has been invaded by solid fleshy beings who have grabbed hold of their legs and won't let go.
Danny, however, has no rider for various occult reasons, some of which are connected with the
bandaged left foot of one Samuel Sprout at whose funeral Danny was a pall bearer. Since Danny is clear,
he is hated by all other people (and their riders). However he is aided by one Parton Vrane who is a
mutated cockroach with black teeth and an awesome plonker. Together with a gentleman who is also
clear and Mickey Merlin who is a direct descendent and has a book of potent spells (but who is not clear)
they go into battle. But all is not as it seems...
It all hangs together somehow and being indescribable is also indescribably funny. I have never found a
Robert Rankin book I didn't like and this is one of those. But it doesn't have a split windscreen Morris
minor in it and it only has a very indirect Brussels sprout, so it isn't perfect.
Enter any bookshop nowadays and you will find the shelves groaning under the weight of formulaic
fantasy novels. They seem written to a recipe in the same way that Mills and Boone romances are
written to a recipe and they sell in their thousands for exactly the same reasons as do the Mills and
Boone books. There is comfort in familarity and unoriginality. If you are planning on writing one of these