Some short novels are really just extended short stories and could have been wrapped up in half the pages. THE ISLAND OF DR. MOREAU could easily have been much longer. It is a tight little novel—every moment is devoted to tipping the scales, finding where we are on the line of humanity. At the very start our main character is dehumanized by being lost at sea…long enough to have abandoned reason. When found, he is nursed back to health by someone who is constantly losing his reason to alcohol. Even Dr. Moreau is never as savage as when imparting science to his creations. The narrator Prendick says toward the end of the novel, “An animal may be ferocious and cunning enough, but it takes a real man to tell a lie.” This includes of course lying to oneself—Moreau has made this into an art form. The Man-Beasts that Moreau creates are not static either—there is a constant tug and pull between animal and man. They are created during an act of brutality and it is largely the fear of it’s return that keeps them human. Once that fear is gone, they revert to a form of their animal selves. Not a favorable critique of humanity. There is a point where Prendick (what can that name possibly mean?) drifts into a stasis with the Man-Beasts—for some weeks there is relative peace on the island. But any form of man will eventually fail to keep the peace. Much is written about H G Wells seeing the future—here forecasting genetic engineering. But really he was just a keen observer of his own times—extrapolating off the world around him. He saw the great acceleration of change at the end of the 19th century and realized it would not slow down. In the midst of a world becoming more mechanical, Wells writes here to ponder just what it is to be human. He discovers just how intangible that can be and how quickly it can elude us.

This was a pleasant surprise. I had hopes but was not really expecting much. Guess that means I was expecting to be disappointed. This generally describes my mood around the holidays. Thankfully this is anything but a holiday book. Instead of just rolling out some bad guy into the already existing Christmas mythology, Brom re-invents the holiday and it’s denizens. Everything is ominous and a lot more interesting. Krampus who prefers to punish children over rewarding them actually comes off more sympathetic than Santa Claus who’s dirty dealings have kept Krampus imprisoned for ages. Entertaining minions and vile action keep this mostly rolling along. Would loved to have rated this higher but there is a rather long dull patch in the middle of the book--but after that it packs a wallop.

The fear and frustration of two lonely people is indelibly stamped here but unfortunately it just felt like the opening chapter to something bigger. Mark this as incomplete.

The first book of the much celebrated series is a humdinger. If I had the other 9 books in the series, I would have kept reading until I dropped. Vividly illustrated, marvelously imagined story of forbidden love at once on the run from galactic armies fantastic and nuts and bolts relationship real. The real and fantastic blend perfectly heightening the beauty of both. In my memory it plays more like a movie than having read a graphic novel. The phrasing of the images reads as cinematic, the characters so beautifully rendered as if actors had slipped into the ink. Guess I thought this was pretty good.

Growing up in a California still in the after-glow of 60's idealism, I saw the world as a place always moving forward, getting better. By the mid seventies I began to realize that society often takes as many steps back as forward. And that moving means making sure we all move forward together. Then I read The Grapes of Wrath which beautifully puts the arc of human, social, and political experiences upon wonderful display. Gradually expanding the experience of the Joad family from the intimate to communal living and how we really all depend on each other. From it's ending, I have carried hope forward. Fantastic!

3.5 stars This dip into the early sci-fi works of Lester Del Rey (Volume I of II) is more a curation
than a collection. As a collection it is kinda weak. Only a few of the stories really deliver
and a couple held so little interest for me that I kept hoping a bus could pick me up and
hurry me to the end of the story (DOUBLED IN BRASS, HABIT). As a curation, it is
much more interesting. Linking the stories is a de facto memoir of the author’s early
days and how he evolved as a writer. While his stories represent what sci-fi was like in
the 30’s and early 40’s, the memoir portions of the book give a feel for the publications
of the day. There is evident growth as the writer moves from the earlier stories to the
later ones with my favorite by far appearing 2nd from the end—MY NAME IS LEGION.
This story is so good that it hints at the possibilities of Science Fiction in a way that
nearly 80 years later it still gives me hope. It uses time travel in a fashion not entirely
dissimilar than the movie LOOPER one of my favorites in recent years. REINCARNATE
and THE SMALLEST GOD are also both good but are weakened by sentimentality
especially at the end. CARILLON OF SKULLS hints at some horror story telling but
softens to Fantasy a genre for which I often have little patience. This certainly succeeds
on the level of making me want to read Volume II but also informs me that I might want
to be a little selective in reading his works overall.

Amusing in spots but not as consistent as Metropolitan Life. Her touch is not for everyone's taste but her maladjusted, or is it overly adjusted, humor is not that far from The Daily Show with John Stewart. I recommend frequent hydration as the humor is quite dry.