I haven't accomplished the impossible, but it almost happened. I'm still looking for a favorite living author, who may or may not be British, but someone who can capture my imagination without grossly offending my very Austenian sensibilities and keep things humorous, light, and very-non-Steinbeck no matter how grim or serious the tale or the topic. I've been reading the 'Odd Thomas' series by Dean Koontz, though I did a bit of reading about the series before I delved into it; I also have not read the entire series. I plunged through the three first books and then the last, as that's what my library had available and apparently you don't have to read the previous books to understand or enjoy the later ones. I'm not sure I'll read the others, aside for the 4 week waitlist, I'm not intrigued by or addicted to these books like I have been to other series: needing to stay up well past bedtime to finish one more chapter, or half the next book! They also tend to keep me up at night, not in fright or wondering what happens, but rather my writerly brain is convinced it has to finish the tale and my brain won't shut off, sort of like taking caffeine after 2pm, I never had that problem two decades ago but alas I am getting old!
Overall, these are pretty good books, the writing is excellent, his vocabulary is wonderful (darkle?!), the humor is perfect, the supporting characters are charming, the mythos is intriguing, and the third book wrestled with the Laws of Thermodynamics, a personal geek-dream come true, and an excellent use of metaphor. These are not light and fluffy books, there is violence and death, and the rancid heart of men (and worse) is not merely hinted at, but they don't delight in darkness, revel in sordid glory, nor despair thereat, rather, they fight against it and make timely wisecracks along the way. Sex, language, and graphic descriptions of violence are fairly modest, most especially by modern standards. The 'great topics and mysteries' of life and everything beyond it are hinted at, probed at, mused upon, mulled over without being preachy, making them far more interesting that your average thriller. These are not overtly Christian books, though there are some Catholic undertones and cosmology, perhaps I might describe them as 'That Hideous Strength' for the secular crowd: such topics as eternity, the origins and intricacies of life, the nature of evil, death, the meaning of life, good versus evil, heaven and hell, redemption, free will and other such things are hinted at or mused upon, something to get you started, whet your appetite, but nothing preachy but much to intrigue.
So besides for writerly insomnia, why aren't these my new favorites, a modern C.S. Lewis perhaps? Why can I rest easily not finishing the series? Most of this will be personal taste and opinion, for the average reader, especially one without any deeply held and researched philosophical tastes, there is much to intrigue, but for me, I feel like I'm reading Tolkien light. This exploration of the deeper things in and beyond life give these books a worldview and depth little rivaled by many other modern tales, making them seem deep, almost mystical, at times, but compared to other overtly Christian and/or classic works, it leaves me feeling underfed, as if I went to a party expecting dinner only to realize the bowl of peanuts on the end table was the entirety of the food options. It makes you thirsty but there's nothing to drink, no spring of living water to slake my thirst, you sip and want to drink deeply but there's a hole in your cup. As a means of inspiring spiritual/philosophical intrigue in an otherwise oblivious readership, it is marvelous, but to someone who is well acquainted with the Well itself, it isn't much more than a shot in a communion cup, as I said, this is a personal issue and has nothing to do with the quality of the work itself.
I also had hoped for a little continuity between tales, but apparently it was a happy thing for me (and my sleep) that I could read the end as well first as last. While the supporting cast is colorful and fun, I really didn't get all that attached to the main character and didn't have a lot of interest in the lost love, which he spends most of the series fretting over, as we don't know her very well and must take his word for it (written in first person). The action and story also seems to be the same in each book, just with slightly different surroundings, especially in the last book which seems to spend half its time quoting the first. I want to delve more deeply into all these concepts that are hinted at or created for the story but we only get to skim the surface and it is rather frustrating to my curiosity but perhaps necessary to the vast majority of modern readers. I have the same problem with G.K. Chesterton, I have so many more questions after I read some of his stuff than before and there never seems to be an answer anywhere, but at least Chesterton writes from an overtly Christian perspective so I can make some educated guesses at the deeps of his mysteries but I have no idea what to make of this quasi-catholic unitarianism in Odd Thomas, but again, perhaps the average Joe can't handle getting in over his metaphysical head, so I'm left with the 'Tale of Despereaux" when I'm really hungry for Lord of the Rings, and so might Joe's curiosity be piqued rather than him tossing away the novel in despair as too tedious and confounding to be worth reading, which is my opinion of 'Ulysses.'
I also love that we don't dwell in darkness and death and despair, as too many modern works are prone to. I hated reading in school because that's all we ever read: Animal Farm, Hamlet, Steinbeck. They are ever present in the books, but between the humor and the strangely undying hope, we never forget the stars shine still far above the shrouding fumes veiling Moria. The other characters are as charming and fun as ever Samwise or Aragorn or Gandalf, but Odd and his lady friend are rather dull, even if he sees dead people. Sadly (for me) it was sort of like 'The Hobbit' movies: so much undeveloped potential but mostly we run around after the main character trying not to get dizzy while people try to kill him or vice versa. I spent four books with the kid (in the first person!) and while I love his sense of humor and big heart, I found him rather tedious when there are a dozen more interesting characters I would love to spend a few more pages with. Nope, we'll just throw in another midnight chase scene trying to evade zombies or the mafia or aliens or whatever through a creepy hotel, the sewer, a blizzard, a terrible thunderstorm, or the dead of night...zzzzzz.
The one thing that really bugged me through the whole thing, not that it surprised me however, but it sort of throws a damper over your reading experience when you are repeatedly yelling at the poor oblivious kid that 'you don't have to, can't, earn your own redemption!' I found it as distracting and annoying as "A Wrinkle in Time's" lumping of Jesus amongst the other great men of history rather than as something far greater, but again, perhaps that is just my personal worldview taking offense, when you consider this is a quasi-Catholic work with a definite purgatory sub theme and throw in the American mentality to 'pull yourself up by your own bootstraps' it really shouldn't surprise me. This is not an overtly Christian novel, so of course I can't expect orthodox theology (though a Wrinkle in Time is touted as such so I do take offense there!) but in a world where the kid seems to acknowledge a Higher Power and Source of all things, including his special senses, he seems determined to think that he must somehow personally save the world and himself and by his own cunning, power, or whatever, though repeatedly salvation is sent and miracles happen that can't be otherwise explained. If you are depending on miracles and miraculous gifts to save the day, how is it you can take any claim for what is accomplished or even believe you can accomplish it without divine help? Why does the Creator even need your help to govern or save His creation? How can a mere creature save the world, let alone himself? The books hit well on the idea of humility but they stumble when it comes to faith and obedience, mostly because the poor kid doesn't know what he must do to save the world/himself from one moment to the next and wisely doesn't think he is capable of doing it. This illogicity proved a rather annoying subtext to me but perhaps you won't care or overanalyze it as I am prone to do. But overall it was a good read and much better than anything else of modern origin I've read in the last few decades!
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