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The Man Who Never Missed
Matadora
The Machiavelli Interface by Steve Perry
Some years ago, when I was younger and more foolish, I read a lot of books with strong martial arts action content, and I saw even more movies, ditto. I reread a lot of books, but many of these books I didn't necessarily feel any need to reread in the last few years. As I prepared for a cross-country move that has been postponed, possibly indefinitely, I culled my library repeatedly, getting rid of many books. In the course of doing so, I cautiously reread a few of these action novels, to find out if any were worth keeping. These three Perry novels, and three others, had survived the purges until quite recently.
When I initially read these novels, they came highly recommended by a young man I dated, who was somewhat interested in the martial arts, starting with aikido and switching to wing chun do. As a result of his recommendation, I have studied under Korbett Miller for almost three years, recently receiving my black belt. Around the time I got my brown belt, I decided to make a particular effort to re-view certain movies, and re-read certain books, and find out if what I had been studying affected my opinion -- and even my perception -- of these books and movies.
Short form: oh, baby. Wing Chun continues to be a near-perfect movie, wonderfully fun to watch, with really hysterically clever and funny fight scenes, that only improve with knowledge. This is distinct from saying I believe everything that happens in the movie.
What about Perry's novels? Before continuing, I should know that these are formulaic novels, suffering from formulaic problems. These characters are supposed to be bright and highly trained, yet are remarkably unable to predict what their teacher will do, even in relatively straightforward situations. So maybe they're boneheads. It could happen. More importantly (and more obvious on this reread than previous ones), the methods used to topple the Confed are not the methods used by guerrilla fighters to topple an Empire. They are the methods used by covert operatives working on behalf of a Superpower to eliminate a legitimately chosen government and replace it with puppets of their own. If you care about democracy, these books are liable to piss you off on that basis alone.
The fight sequences are not always easy to decipher if you are not familiar with the art in question, because Perry often uses names unique to styles, rather than segmenting and describing an action which might be more cumbersome, but also more universally recognizable and action. One assumes the funky noun phrases are part of the appeal. What remains, however, is often a relatively plausible interaction. Unfortunately, that interaction may or may not match the motivation attributed to the character (or, again, the supposedly smart character is in fact a bonehead, a legit interpretation. Perry could be messing with us. I wouldn't put it past him.). For example, Dirisha steps aside and yanks on the hand of a guy coming at her with a knife. With the side step, she is now behind him, and kidney punches him a few times, then offers to call it a draw. Her described motivation is not wanting to hurt the guy. He, angered, fights on, and she winds up killing him when he resorts to hidden weaponry. I seriously doubt you could convince a bonehead to call off a fight if you do what she did initially. He really won't (as described) know just what hit him. However, I would further argue she could have taken the temple shot as he whizzed past her and knocked him flat, and taken off before he woke up. Why didn't she? That would be both less stylin' and less tragic. Whatever.
If we're supposed to accept Dirisha as a bonehead who lacks self-awareness, that's a good way to present it. Authorial voice suggests otherwise; certainly most readers I know who love the books don't perceive Dirisha as a bonehead. Do we blame the author for the readers' failings? I don't know. But it's all of a piece with people really thinking Khadaji is dead at the end of the first book, even after all that crap about the tunnel being explained earlier.
Steven Segal movies suffer from a similar problem. Segal's style is brutal. I don't think anyone misses this, or argues about it. Segal's character often claims he's trying to end a fight early, or be fair, or just or something like that, much like Dirisha above. In practice, the fight is an incoherent mess, more often than not, with Segal successively brutalizing, maiming and incapacitating someone in such a way that they always have the time and capacity to get up and try again. I think it would be more merciful and more in keeping with the skillsets of Segal's characters, and Dirisha, to go for a KO blow early on, and turn the bad dude over to the authorities or work the body over at their leisure, depending on their current goal. And yet they don't. Why? I think because that would upset the audience, to be confronted with that reality, which is unfortunate.
The 97 Step Form is central to this series (one entry is even called The 97th Step). I don't do kata. I don't see any obvious benefit in the people who do do kata (other than as a workout). This is just so obsessive. I'm sure I will one day be humbled and decide this was actually worthy. But right now, give me a freaking break.
The more I shoot, the more I think how cool the apparently recoilless spetsdod would be to have.
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Copyright Rebecca Allen, 2002.
Created June 4, 2002 Updated June 4, 2002