Djinn and Tonic

  Before I get to my review of Tim Powers' Declare, I must report on the weekend doings.

Comedienne got baptized on Saturday and asked me to do the honors while her other grandpa performed the confirmation. I got to reacquaint myself with some old friends at the baptismal venue and served at the later celebration by daubing burger dough onto the grill so Lawtwister could pressure, interrogate, and flip  them until they were ready to spill their deliciousness to hungry consumers. I found it a complete success.

The lone fly in the ointment of the outstanding weekend was the gray plague that affected Les Freres Corses et Mere. As a result of the quarantine, we didn't get to visit, haul off couch and bed, or assist in the hanging of the wall poster from the cover of Accidental Pirates. 

We did, however, get to attend the dance extravaganza in which Former President participated. Hers was the best group, I must say. For reward we had ice cream.

Now - to the review:

"Ankh if you heart history, horror, and supernatural mystery." I guess that's a little long for bumper sticker, but that would be my blurb for the book. 

Declare combines spy craft from WWII through the Cold War with fantasy. Specifically, it's a case of djinn and tonic--along with vodka and other spirits--wherein espionage and supernatural elements mesh in a tale that keeps the reader wondering. I think my least favorite thing about the story is the fact that it's told in a nonlinear, non-chronological fashion. We're dumped into 1963 and flipped back to 1944, and bounced through years in between in England, Paris, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, and other places. I think I understand why the author chose to tell the story that way: It keeps the reader guessing and the adhesive tension taut as the reader struggles to connect the different elements.

In a nutshell, Andrew Hale gets indentured into the spy game as a very young boy. His mother was a nun in Lebanon or somewhere in the Levant who was saved by British Intelligence--I forget whether that was the SIS or SOE; probably the latter. Eventually, he is sent to Paris as a communist where he meets Elena, who is a communist from Spain. The two of them work as a team, sending information about the Nazis to Moscow. When they get recalled to Moscow, a sure death sentence, Hale retreats to England instead. Elena survives her Moscow ordeal, having her eyes opened to the realities of the communism and Mother Russia's unique gift.

A pivotal event takes place on Mount Ararat in 1948 where Hale loses everyone in the contingent he leads in a special mission. The details of this mission are dribbled out here and there with a full picture of what happened only coming into focus two-thirds of the way or more through the book. Even then, it's not entirely clear. The opening of the book begins the mission for what will be a second attempt at the Ararat mission. Most of the book is from Hale's point of view, but I think we get a chapter or portion of a chapter from Elena, and another from a character named Kim Philby who plays an important roll. In fact, Hale, Elena, and Philby and the key characters in the drama.

I'm not going to give away any details or the ending. It does become apparent early on in the story that there are supernatural elements at play. We learn that the djinn have particular powers and Hale has some connection with them. After the second Ararat mission, the story isn't over. I'll leave it at that.

Can I say that it's a great story but that it didn't thrill me? I enjoyed the bare bones of the story along with much of the descriptions, twists, and intrigue. The spy craft details were of particular interest and Power's ability to weave real live events with the story and supernatural explanations may be unmatched. Nevertheless, I felt like the tale required greater effort than the promise delivered. I loved the core of the story, but the bouncing timeline and drawn out fashion of the telling obfuscated the tale instead of piquing my interest. 

I give it 4 ankhs out of 5. Check it out for yourself.