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camwynbut ... I think maybe I'm not going to buy any more Doc Savage novels.
I've read two. The first was really good. That was The Man of Bronze. Nice character intro, funky plot, etc. I shan't spoil it for anyone. All I'll say is that I can excuse your depiction of the group Savage & Co. ran into on the grounds that we didn't have the same archaeological understanding in your day as we do in mine.
However.
#2 was The Land of Terror, and it did not sit right with me from the very beginning. I'm really sorry, but aside from a fit of 'eee! I know this part of New Jersey!', the annoyances started piling up quickly. The first few pages are spent praising Doc, a LOT, and the only way the expository dialogue you gave the characters becomes tolerable is if I assume it's being spoken with Damon Runyon-esque Noo Yawk accents. Doc is better at absolutely everything than absolutely everyone, and is better-looking, to boot. I can only assume the reason he has five companions is because he cannot be in more than one place at one time.
I can excuse even these flaws; Gary Stu-ism is a very minor crime in pulp fiction. It's the dinosaurs that get me. Even with 1933 palaeontology, how the hell is a Tyrannosaurus rex that hops like a frickin' kangaroo supposed to be SCARY?? "This summer... terror goes boing. BOUNCING DEATH FROM ABOVE!"
I'm sorry, Mr. Dent. Unless someone can tell me the next book is way better than The Island of Terror and not given to heaping so much encomium upon the Doc's enormous bronze shoulders, I'm not gonna read it.
(Although I really did like the fact that your boy had an Arctic Island Fortress of Solitude, complete with the name Fortress of Solitude, years before Kal El of Krypton came along and turned the name into a condo franchise.)
I've read two. The first was really good. That was The Man of Bronze. Nice character intro, funky plot, etc. I shan't spoil it for anyone. All I'll say is that I can excuse your depiction of the group Savage & Co. ran into on the grounds that we didn't have the same archaeological understanding in your day as we do in mine.
However.
#2 was The Land of Terror, and it did not sit right with me from the very beginning. I'm really sorry, but aside from a fit of 'eee! I know this part of New Jersey!', the annoyances started piling up quickly. The first few pages are spent praising Doc, a LOT, and the only way the expository dialogue you gave the characters becomes tolerable is if I assume it's being spoken with Damon Runyon-esque Noo Yawk accents. Doc is better at absolutely everything than absolutely everyone, and is better-looking, to boot. I can only assume the reason he has five companions is because he cannot be in more than one place at one time.
I can excuse even these flaws; Gary Stu-ism is a very minor crime in pulp fiction. It's the dinosaurs that get me. Even with 1933 palaeontology, how the hell is a Tyrannosaurus rex that hops like a frickin' kangaroo supposed to be SCARY?? "This summer... terror goes boing. BOUNCING DEATH FROM ABOVE!"
I'm sorry, Mr. Dent. Unless someone can tell me the next book is way better than The Island of Terror and not given to heaping so much encomium upon the Doc's enormous bronze shoulders, I'm not gonna read it.
(Although I really did like the fact that your boy had an Arctic Island Fortress of Solitude, complete with the name Fortress of Solitude, years before Kal El of Krypton came along and turned the name into a condo franchise.)
