Old Clive

I read Clive Cussler's Treasure a few years ago. Somewhere or other I'd heard that it was "about" the lost library of Alexandria, which was good enough for me to go looking for it. And it was an okay read. Interesting, moderately compelling. I can't remember anything about it now...with the exception of a vague memory of Dirk Pitt doing something totally ludicrous and unbelievable in his car on a mountain...but that's not indicative of much of anything, as I forget most of what I read shortly after I've finished reading it. But I thought that that was enough Clive Cussler for me, thank you.

Then I saw Atlantis Found at Half-Price Books for a dollar. Well, Atlantis. You know. So I picked it up. And it sat on my shelf for some time before I picked it up a week or two ago. 692 pages later...I finished it this morning. I have to say (the obvious) that it was pretty compelling reading, but it was disappointing in several ways, too. For one thing, the whole Atlantis schtick was just in the background. We never really got to see the joint, and that's what I was down for. I'd imagined Dirk swimming through the sunken city, doing this and that. You know. Atlantis-y type stuff. Maybe bumping into Full and Arion. This was really more a Rise and Fall of the Fourth Reich story, which I've had more than enough of...especially given the current political climate. 

I also found Cussler's writing style very annoying. He's a clumsy writer, for one thing. There are many times when he will repeat a word in adjacent sentences...times when he will belabor descriptions that are completely unnecessary and distracting...and he has a penchant for name dropping, especially in terms of the brand names of expensive products. I hate that shit. But the worst example of name dropping was when he dropped his own name into the novel. He has Clive "Dad" Cussler loan Dirk a vehicle which ends up saving the world from destruction. Which is not nearly as interesting as it sounds, but no spoilers here. But talk about self-aggrandisement. This is supercalifragilisticselfaggrandisementidocious. 

But the worst aspect of all...and the reason I am pretty sure I will never read another Clive Cussler book...is the unrelenting low-level misogyny. Take this bit, for example. A Congresswoman...who is, of course, also stunningly beautiful and Dirk Pitt's girlfriend (she pines away for him when he leaves for his adventures, which he does quite regularly)...says she is thinking about leaving Congress because

"I've had my day playing the independent, individualist woman. I enjoyed it. But now it's time to get practical."

Well, there you have it. Women can play at being independent and individualistic, but underneath that patina they are just women, after all. Oh, and by the way, one of the things she thinks it's time to get practical about is settling down, getting married, and having babies. I shit thee not.

Clive Cussler is a fucking dinosaur, and he just became extinct so far as my reading life is concerned.

So long, Clive. Thanks for all the fucking fish.