HEART OF DARKNESS (Joseph Conrad) - September 30/10

The horror, the horror. This absolutely abysmal book takes almost 120 pages to tell a story I can sum up in one sentence: some dude heads out into the jungle to find a missing ivory trader named Kurtz, but is shocked to discover that Kurtz has gone native and is ruling over his underlings with an iron fist. That's it, yet Conrad rambles on incessantly page after page and just goes insane describing everything in sight. There's no plot here, nor are there any interesting characters. It's just a pretentious mess, pure and simple. At least it's (relatively) short. no stars out of ****

THE FACE OF FEAR (Dean Koontz) - September 28/10

This passable thriller features plenty of Koontz cliches - I'm especially getting tired of the playful banter between the main couple - and a buildup that's a little too deliberate, but the payoff is pretty decent (although Koontz is overly verbose when it comes to describing the climbing equipment and its use). This would probably work better as a movie. (The demise of the villain, crushed by a snow plow, is a highlight.) **1/2 out of ****

THE SKELETON MAN (Jay Bennett) - September 22/10

Well, this plan to read all of my old youth fiction books before dumping them seems to have backfired already. This is a badly written novel that seems to consist primarily of hard-boiled (yet thoroughly unconvincing) dialogue, with the serviceable (yet all-too-slight) storyline squandered by Bennett. The deux-ex-machina appearance of a treasury agent at the end is nothing short of ridiculous, and it's worth noting that although it's super short, The Skeleton Man felt a whole lot longer than most actual novels. * out of ****

THE LATE SHIFT (Bill Carter) - September 18/10

This interesting yet overlong book revolving around the battle for late night certainly has its moments, yet it's clear that Carter often bogs things down with needless details and repetitiveness. **1/2 out of ****

THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE (Stieg Larsson) - September 9/10

As was the case with its predecessor, The Girl Who Played with Fire is undeniably much longer than it really needs to be - ie all the sex crime stuff that dominates the middle is not exactly enthralling - yet the novel contains several seriously entertaining and enthralling interludes that compensate for its overlength (including an amazing fight between a pro boxer and a giant that doesn't feel pain). And, of course, Lisbeth Salander's exploits remain the high point here - which also explains why that midsection isn't that spectacular, since she's absent for much of it. The ending even got me a little choked up. Good stuff. ***1/2 out of ****