MacArthur Must Die....

I tend to be a rather careful reader; I take the time to mouth out every single word, letting the tone or voice of the author slowly nestle into my brain. This could be attributed to the skill (or lack of) of a weak reader, but I'd like to think I give the author the proper amount of attention and patience. I watch and listen to films and music, respectively, with the same amount of vigilance. Plus, I prefer to read in a relatively quiet environment, lest ideas, humor, or particular beautiful passages escape my notice. However, when faced with the challenge of "MacArthur Must Die," I abandoned all patience and prudence. Not only did I attempt to conquer the book as fast as possible, almost skimming the text at times, I read that baby everywhere and anywhere. This includes while listening to loud music, eating, and watching TV. The simple reason for my justified impatience rests with the fact that this Ian Slater novel just happens to be the worst book I've ever read. It is, in fact, complete and utter garbage, garbage that has reached the tenth degree of rotten.

When judging a book's quality, most likely several categories are used; a book may be strong in one aspect, but weaker in another. This could even apply to some of the classics. Realistically, a classic does not have to be perfect; only a few novels achieve that level of eminence. However, the nightmare that is "MacArthur Must Die" is a total and complete failure, lacking any real redeemable qualities (sure, occasionally a single sentence turns out publishable, but what does that matter?) The plot is convincingly implausible, atrociously banal, and straight up boring. Slater has almost no sense for the telling of a story, spending paragraph after paragraph after paragraph describing the geography of different sections of Australia.

"The most important thing that the reconnaissance pilot told Sloan was that another search line from Esk, in position ten miles to the north, was even now moving south to meet Sloan, the two search lines forming a shrinking corridor, closing in like two railway lines from opposite sides of the crash site, the western end of the corridor blocked by the thick, bush-covered bluffs of Toowoomba's rim. Headquarters in Brisbane had decided that if the pilot had bailed out or walked away from the crash he would most likely try to reach the Warrego Highway to his south, which he could then follow east or west, or he might try to go farther in to the mountain wilderness of the north, away from the highway."

As you can see, this is some awfully boring stuff. In fact, I would say it's the perfect remedy for those nightly bouts with insomnia that one tends to have.

Oh, and here's that ridiculously atrocious plot: Tomokazu Somura is in love with Elizabeth Lawson (this "love" is so boring that one can't even call it sappy; instead, one more rightfully chooses to just not care). Somura is Japanese and Lawson is Australian, which is relatively problematic because the two countries are about to engage in a large war (This book is an imaginary what-if scenario set during WWII). Somura is currently studying in Australia as a foreign exchange student, which explains how the two met. However, he is called back to Japan on account of a sick grandparent, which turns out to be a lie (though it is never explained why). About a week into his homecoming, he is recruited by the Japanese army to "participate" in a special mission, the assassination of Douglas MacArthur, who is planning a major attack on Japan from his base in Australia. Tomokazu (or Tom) is chosen because he understands the Australian geography and customs due to his long time as a student there. Not any less important, he can speak near perfect English. This makes sneaking him in a lot easier.

However, this measure backfires, so the Japanese resort to plan B, which is to have Tomokazu fly a jet bomber into Australian territory to nuke MacArthur's headquarters. Now, this turn of events makes very little sense. Why, of all the people in Japan, is Tom chosen for the bombing? After all, one can see that his advantage with the culture, language, and geography of Australia becomes irrelevant when the plan is a bomb strike, as opposed to an up close and personal stabbing. Any capable pilot could accomplish this task. Why must it be Somura? Of course, Mr. Slater probably has no damn clue as to why either. Oh, and when Tom realizes the necessity of his mission and overall goodness of Tojo, he transforms into a stereotypically evil villain. The metamorphosis is so complete that he is even willing to kill Elizabeth, the woman he supposedly loves, to get at MacArthur. However, the reason for his extremely sudden change of heart is contrived beyond all decency. In other words, a big load of BS.

Now, on top of being a bad storyteller, this Slater fellow also happens to be a disastrous writer, making me realize that my writing is actually publishable. He often writes long, convoluted sentences that lack focus (as in the previous example. Alas, this is even the case when he is not pointing out miscellaneous landmarks), causing the reader to forget exactly what he's talking about in midsentence. Now, I've read Charles Dickens. Although Mr. Dickens also writes in long, meandering sentences, he never loses focus within the sentence itself. Plus, Mr. Slater seems to have fallen for a few specific words because he always uses the same damn words over and over again. Just try and count how many times the words "cumulus," "mottled," and "immaculate" pop up. Truly ridiculous.

As you can see, all of these reasons add together and then multiply to create one truly awful reading experience. I was genuinely astounded when I finished this book. There was absolutely no redeemable quality about it, except for the fact, I guess, that it wasn't too long (a little bit under 300 pages). Needless to say, I would probably not recommend this baby to anyone I like. Even the more masochicstic ones...

(Actually, to be fair, Slater is often credited for his dutiful research on the subjects he writes about, and while reading the book, I actually found the factual information on military procedures and cultural peculiarities of both countries to be rather informative. HOWEVER, it seems that Mr. Slater utterly fails in this aspect also. The only review of this book on Amazon.com is written by a WWII expert, and according to him, it seems that the factual information is far off. The research made was so ineffective, it seems, that the reviewer quit reading the book before finishing it.)