Which Way Books #7: Curse of the Sunken Treasure

It's been so long I have nearly no recollection of the last trip into this rich vein of "I sorta 'member dat" but apparently it involved tracking the snow beast and promptly giving up because of inclement weather. Monster hunting and baseball, it's got more in common than just the huge, disfigured creatures birthed by chemistry experiments gone horribly wrong. Be that as it may, it's time to get back in the groove with some more Which Way mediocrity.

Will I ever finish this series? It certainly looks more promising than the doomed enterprise of finishing Choose Your Own Adventure, but on the other hand the same could be said for Twist-a-Plot and I don't even want to look at the cover of one of those again, let alone endure the lazy soul-rending snark within. At least Which Way hasn't broken my will to resist, but on the other hand there's a few books in the series that aren't available for a reasonable price, so this is probably a doomed enterprise that will end in miserable failure. Now that we're suitably fired up, let's crack open today's subject.

Never steal anything wet.

Even disregarding the encounter with nothingness I just had it's hard to be too optimistic about this one. The title sounds like something one of those random generators would spit out and the cover promises more thrilling undersea adventure, that's new and exciting. This might be the most phoned-in Which Way concept yet, which is really saying something. You know, maybe we should just quit stalling and actually start.

We get our usual inspired opening, always the highlight. I'm having "disturbing" dreams and then wake up to a mysterious glow coming from the harbor. I live in a seaside town, you see. Call me Ishmael this shit isn't. I almost wonder if this was written by a human being and not a BASIC program loaded up with R.G. Austin tropes. Better check the television reception to determine how personal this is gonna get.

I get a "compelling need" to investigate the glow. Believable motivations, intriguing heroes tormented by the world beyond the wall of sleep, a harbor...we're just laying down that strong prose game in this thang. I paddle my way out toward the light because what else would someone reasonably do? Next thing you know I'm on a ship with "Captain Abel" who insists we set sail immediately without questioning why random strangers are coming on board. Man, now Biblical imagery, this is like Moby Dick but superior in every way, from the literary styling to the reduced amount of whaling minutia, to say nothing of not having such an unfortunate title.

One day I won't giggle like a schoolgirl at this, but it won't be today or tomorrow either.

Captain Ahab Abel actually does give me an opportunity to back out, since the journey is going to be dangerous and no doubt highly symbolic. It turns out his own particular obsession/metaphor for the uncaring forces of fate is a green diamond "the size of a basketball." Somehow having the grizzled sea dog talk about hoopin' it up out of no where makes this even better. From Hell's heart he shoots the orange! Yes! And it counts!

As you probably already guessed the roundball-sized rock is from the Planet Galinka, curses anyone who owns it and is currently at the bottom of the sea with exactly two million dollars American worth of pirate gold. This ship sunk when it hit a glacier, you see. The mysterious light is caused by the reflection of the diamond, somehow. Go home and sleep it off, R.G.

Before I can even process this madness another man named "Stix" is proposing a mutiny and I'm wondering what I did wrong in the last few days to deserve this agony.

Getting a random disease and dying in 1890? Must be the curse of that diamond!

I decide to stay loyal to the crazy old guy I just met, always the best policy, and Stik simply accepts it and leaves. Well, all right then. Now it's time to choose a direction to sail with absolutely no information provided. This book sucks.

Ten days pass and the light steadily grows brighter until we're directly over it. Those random direction choosing skills doe, what can you say? Diving suit on, down I go. As you probably saw coming Stik is already there, somehow, sitting on the treasure chest and holding a knife. 

Yeah.

Using gestures or whatever I form an unstable alliance with the kind of guy who via unknown means, without a ship or anything, got to the treasure first and then was just chilling down there with a blade out because just use your imagination or whatever. We raise the chest, a feat that would probably be impossible considering the weight of the gold but I've stopped caring and I just want out. We also simply leave the diamond behind because who wants to be cursed by alien wizards or the like and head off, celebrating the considerable windfall. But wait! It's a pirate ship!

This is cultural appropriation and it's not okay.

My ingenious tactic of sailing "west" is enough to outwit the sea brigands and we're heading home with big money and Mr. Stabby/Mutiny isn't even going to betray us because unpredictable changes in the few traits a character has rules. I'm even offered a chance to "explore a cave" after the ending, but decide against it.

Now I remember why I wait for months and months between these reviews.

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here. 

Twistaplot #16 Secrets of the Lost Island

Last time I encountered nearly every possible broadly drawn Egyptian stereotype, learned one weird trick for upper body strength (acrobat training) and defeated Belly Dancer Slavery cartels. Obviously, almost anything is going to represent a significant retreat from such concentrated excellence, so it's time to go back to a series that never seems to properly deliver the "turn to this page" goods. This time out we're looking at some sort of Island of Dr. Moreau trick bag, so let's cut the preliminaries and enter the house of pain.

Intense bald dude seems trustworthy.

By Twist-a-Plot standards the opening paragraphs are unbelievably brilliant. We jump right into the action, with myself and "Uncle Dave" caught in a storm that may or may not be perfect and forced to try to steer the boat toward an island, quite possibly one that holds secrets. Then, with my attention captured by the crazy nautical action, we get back-story. The author obviously worked hard in that "Basics of Constructing a Narrative" correspondence course. "First get the reader interested, then they will have more tolerance for your lame exposition." It's crazy enough to work.

And make no mistake, the exposition is not great. It turns out Uncle Dave is trying to find his missing wife who decided it was a good idea to swim in open waters and promptly vanished. Even the Coast Guard has given up on this as a lost cause and we all know how grimly determined they generally are. The upshot is that I've agreed to help him on this White Whale quest, citing basic human empathy as a motivating factor. Yup, that will screw you every time. Now the boat is headed toward rocks.

 Ninety minutes of "Something's on my leg!"

Dave and I ditch the boat and try to swim for the island, but the current is too strong. When things look the worst I feel "cold hard metal" on my foot and moments later am standing with Dave on a submarine. It's been that kind of day. With no better option we enter an open hatch, already anticipating the "I live under the sea, away from the prejudices of small minds!" madness that surely lurks within. 

Inside there's creaking and clanging, along with a round and rectangular door. The hatch has closed, so I have to choose one. I pick round, which is the much more sensible design. Rectangular doors in a submarine? That's just silly. 

We make our way through bunks and a galley, but there is no crew or even the obligatory lone crank. Instead we reach the control room and face a choice between "manual" and "automatic" because a dive boot can probably be controlled with two large buttons and maybe a healthy dose of ESP. 

  Seems pretty straight forward.

With the pilots that already made the sacrifice presumably disposed of, I assume the controls and hit "manual." A little messing around provides the basics for everything except surfacing, which we probably won't need for awhile anyway. Unfortunately, warning lights are going off in regards to an obstruction ahead. Without any additional information, I decide to steer "left or right" which seems vague enough. Three dimensional maneuvering is not really well-suited to this format.

I avoid the danger (it was a rock) and soon become accustomed to a new life living on this metal tube, but just when I'm nearing the "acceptance" phase of the process I find a lever that can be pulled to surface. Might as well try it out. It works!

From the topside we can see the island far in the distance, but worry about steering while surfaced for some reason. Wouldn't it be the same, just much easier? Yeah, no problem. We reach the island and, as you might expect, Dave's missing wife is right there waiting. She's even got a highly plausible tale of being kidnapped by sailors and held in a...well, a hold. We're almost done, so she somehow was able to escape, easily swim over open water in hurricane season, etc.

The story ends with Dave happy to wait for "years" on this island, while I'm perhaps somewhat less enthusiastic about picking fruit all day and trying to ignore them getting busy all night. Still, I'm a glass half-full type of person, noting there will be no school and I'll get a truly righteous tan. Ignorant and burned to a crisp is no way to go through life, son.

Tanning. It's a LIFESTYLE, man!

I guess this one managed to reach the lofty heights of "below average." The lengthy submarine simulator wasn't exactly compelling, but the writing was decent enough. Again, it's amazing how much a decent opening lets you get away with. "Man, this Ishmael guy is pretty righteous. I guess I'll just plow through the next hundred pages of irrelevant digressions and tattoo descriptions." 

 Where would you even wear it?

Check Out My Books!

Aaron Zehner is the author of "Posts from the Underground," now available in paperback and e-book. Read free excerpts here and here.

His first novel "The Foolchild Invention" is also available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.