I once said that I’d never review a bad book…and as it turns out, I’ve changed my mind.  I thought I’d take a different spin on things and examine where I think a writer’s gone wrong. The Spear had a lot of potential; a story dealing with the political game of chess played between international intelligent agencies and the underground world of neo-Nazism could have made a nail biting thriller, yet combine that with the Nazi occultism and the ‘Spear of Destiny’, you have a story bordering on unbelievable. The result could have looked like James Bond meets the fiction of A. Crowley. Instead, the novel looks like Johnny English meets Rent-A-Ghost.

The book revolves around Steadman; an ex-agent for both the Britain and Israeli intelligence forces who retires to Britain and joins a private investigation firm. An old face returns, wanting him to look into an arms dealer and the disappearance of another agent. Although he refuses it, his partner accepts the job but less than a week hours later ends up crucified to Steadman’s door. MI5 force Steadman to work for the Israelis once again in hope of under covering a dangerous neo-Nazi organisation in Britain.

You have some truly creative ideas in this book, from a tank chase to torture with a hairdryer, to the ghost of a Nazi demon. However, you also have a villain who seems to be an Ian Fleming reject, dialogue and an argument that could have been put together by a schoolboy and a writing style that fluctuates between realistic and enjoyable to being as wooden as the desk I’m sitting at. Already you might see one possible cause of death. Did James Hebert bite off more than he could chew?

The plot is very much the soul of a book, if it’s a bad plot it’s usually a bad book. The Spear is very much a mash of genres, horror mixed with political thriller with a dollop of history. It’s a gamble but it’s not a first. What the story suffers from most is a thinning of the blood, or in plain English, weak storytelling.

The first problem is Steadman’s feelings against the Israelis. His argument is flimsy and limited, which left me hating him slightly for his ignorance. The same lack of conviction also appears in the villain, whose reasoning appears self-defeating and self-damning. Steadman’s like a parrot, constantly responding by labelling them mad. You can’t believe that the Nazi’s are Nazi’s or that Steadman was smart enough to be in British Intelligence. Also, the structure and narrative voice felt like the literary version of the shaky camera technique you see in films like the Blair Witch Project. In moments of pace and action there was more emphasis on excitement and panic than what was actually occurring. Of all the plot twists there was only one I could not see coming…but when I read it I couldn’t take it seriously. There were only a few scenes where I really fell into the story, the best of which was in the form of a flashback, but its positioning couldn’t have been more awkward (unless it was stapled over the original page of dialogue that proceeded it). Apart from that, the narratives’ lack of substance meant that I drifted through it – the reading became mechanical.

I do like James Herbert’s work and his writing style, no matter how taboo, but I’d recommend books like The Secret of Crickley Hall, which showcase his developed and skilled writing style. In the case of The Spear, I imagine he could do a better job now than he did back in the 70’s. I didn’t get much of a kick from damning a book but it makes a pleasant change to my usual ‘this is great’ gushing.

Anyway, it’s about time I review something which isn’t of the horror genre, perhaps even, dare I say, ‘literary’. After all, familiarity breeds something or another…

To get it out of the way, I’m not usually a fan of Biographies. Both of my grandparents have an extensive collection of these things and they’re certainly not something I’ve ever considered reading.

Now, for my University dissertation I found myself having to read through a copy of ‘Anne McCaffrey, Science Fiction Storyteller’, and I found it both intriguing and refreshing. It was everything I believed a biography ought to be. The writing style was well-flowing and formal without being stuffy and boring. The facts were indeed facts and not speculation (with the non-too-infrequent use of references when anything might be called into dispute). If you’re wanting a thoroughly detailed timeline, stating what she used to eat for breakfast then this isn’t the book you want, but somehow the almost vague passing over of some aspects simply intrigues the reader more.

Something I barely ever do is talk about the length of a book, but I think for this review it’s rather important. When I opened this particular volume I was surprised at how quickly I’d be able to get through it (less than a day, if you wanted to know), but I didn’t feel cheated by it’s comparatively short length. The writing was succinct enough to keep my attention throughout, without wandering into the realms of waffle, which is only ever a good thing, especially with this sort of genre. Also, being able to get through the book in a day means that you don’t have time to lose patience with irrelevant paragraphs of text, keeping your attention throughout and holding it in a vice-grip.

To talk fleetingly about the references throughout the book, the only downside of it that I can see is that most of them seem to come from emails sent between the author and the subject in question. Perhaps it’s the degree student in me talking, but I would have liked to see a slightly wider range of bibliography, although once I got past those pages I realised that there was a ‘further reading’ page and all was mostly forgiven. I am rather pleased that a list of Anne’s novels made it into the back of the book, making them more accessible to people who have perhaps only read one or two and wanted to know where to go from there.

The presentation of the book is also startlingly efficient and effective. There are a number of photographs littered throughout the book instead of – as many decide to utilise – a block of glossed pages in the middle with photographs that mean nothing to the overall chronology of the book. The chapters are also very well thought out, with each of them being just long enough to warrant pausing and getting a cup of tea every now and then, before resuming with renewed interest.

On the whole, I found the book incredibly interesting, giving me some new information about an author I thought I already knew a great deal about. Thanks to the easy-going writing style the book is accessible to teenagers as well as adults, without being at all condescending in the written approach.

If I try my hardest to criticise the book (because despite biases, I do still believe that every book has its flaws, no matter how small they might be) all I can really say is that some of the writing is rather vague, and once or twice I found myself wanting a reference to a comment when there wasn’t one. Also, one or two bits of information were repeated in separate ways, but they were admittedly done so to remind the reader later on in the book. Whilst done for the best of intentions, this almost assumes a reader who won’t retain the knowledge, and if this is the case then what is the point of the book to begin with?

I’m sure that there are some biographies of Anne McCaffrey out there which go into greater depth and detail – in fact I know there are, I own them – but I was rather charmed by this version. It gives enough information to be interesting, enhancing general knowledge of this writer, but it also gives way (with a great bibliography at the back of the book) to further reading about Anne’s life.

I believe this book is a great first-insight into a much loved, respected and important author of our time. If you can get your hands on one, then please do have a sit down and at least skim through some rather interesting information. Oh, and the last line is one of my personal favourites.

Audience: 13+