The Griffin or the Agate

A prologue: Not too long ago, when this site first began to scratch its way into existence, a bundle arrived at our doorstep. It contained the first book by a new author, and it was also the first offering of a new publishing house. Eagerness turned to dismay as the book proved to be dreadful. This brought about a conundrum - what to do? Three options presented themselves:

1) Write the scathing review that the book deserved. Be honest and brutal. Risk infuriating the publisher and cutting off any future communication.
2) Write a lukewarm review, playing up any positive points that could be found. It would be a compromise, but one that was disingenuous to the readers of the site.
3) Toss the review aside and inform the publisher of our decision. No news is good news.

Option three was chosen, mainly to spare the publisher a bad review on their first release. It wasn't the perfect solution, but at the time seemed the best choice. It never felt one hundred percent right, though, and I swore I'd never give someone a free pass again if they coughed up a hairball of a book.
     Which brings us to Swim the Moon.
     This book is a complete mystery, as in, 'How did something this awful get published?' Swim the Moon is not just a bad book; it's a literary train wreck. How an editor could have approved this nightmare of a text is unfathomable. Something this amateurish is an insult to readers, and if I'd paid for this instead of receiving a reviewer's copy I'd be pounding on Tor's door, demanding retribution. I pity the publicist saddled with this dog.
     What makes it so abysmal? Where to begin? Brandon shows no real writing strengths to speak of. He relies heavily on the adverb, to levels that stretch beyond ludicrous. Am I exaggerating? You'd be hard pressed to find a sentence lacking an adverb, and if you do, don't worry, Brandon'll toss in two or three in the next one. Allow me to prove my point. Opening to a random page, I'll count sentences and adverbs - 13 sentences, nine adverbs. One sentence starts with three in a row! He also specializes in dreary, sappy references to the protagonist's heart and soul, with unintentionally humorous passages like, "Without a doubt, I knew she had taken something from me. I think she had stolen my soul,"(p.173), and "Tears were running freely down her face, and I felt my heart breaking steadily,"(p.375). I feel compelled to point out the double-adverb salvo of the latter line, in case you were giggling as you read the passages and missed it.
     What little plot there is involves Richard Brennan, a self-centered, snobbish jerk of a professional fiddler who gets drawn back to his homeland of Scotland after his father's death. He's been in self-exile since the death of his wife some six years ago, and Brandon tries to draw empathy for the past relationship with an astounding sixteen pages of flashbacks lumped together some one-third of the way into the text. Suffice to say, he fails. The ensuing ghost/not ghost story that follows is laughable, for by the time the unfortunate reader gets to the 'big revelation,' only the dullest of people wouldn't have seen it coming a mile away, stemming from Brandon's lack of writing acumen and any gift for being subtle. He's so obvious about it that I half-expected a twist in another direction. Perhaps in the hands of a true author, there might have been. Not here, however. Characters are introduced, given lengthy introductions, and then discarded, forgotten about, just filler to pad the page total. Brennan develops a wrist condition for no better reason than to take up space. Have I mentioned that this is an awful, awful book?
     In an author's note, Brandon thanks his 'editor and pal' as well as Charles de Lint. I suspect that either one or both of them are probably responsible for this embarrassment seeing the light of day, putting friendship over quality. If you're looking for a good contemporary tale of magic and mystery, grab the re-release of Jonathan Carroll's The Land of Laughs. Swim the Moon, well, avoid it unless you want to see metaphors and adverbs running amok in a weak story.
     Having just proofread this review, a part of me felt a twinge of guilt at my harshness. Then I went back and reread a few pages, and the feeling passed. Avoid this dreck. Completely.   §

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