Catching up
I am now much less stressed. Sure, I have no internet (currently compromising my principles in Starbucks) and no car, and there's a hold-up with one piece of paper that means I may not be able to start work next Tuesday as planned, but these are minor inconveniences compared with all the active disasters of December. Anyway. This gets me almost up to the end of 2007 in books - I still have one more post on Cynthia Voigt's Tillerman series - and then I can start on this year's lot, as part of my whole posting more regularly and writing stuff organisational thing.
I have a mental short list of authors whose next book I will buy automatically, without even bothering to check the blurb. It’s a dynamic list - Michael Chabon, for example, got onto it with The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, and then fell right back off again with Summerland (and his Sherlock Holmes book I just borrowed from the library and felt bitter enough about that, so The Yiddish Policeman’s Union and Gentlemen of the Road are just going to have to wait until time subdues my irritation); Connie Willis is on there for all full length novels that are not co-written romances; Glen David Gold is on there with, as far as I know, only one book (Carter Beats the Devil); Diana Wynne Jones, despite some recent hiccups…
Anne Fadiman is on there, and although I didn’t like this as much as her two earlier ones it’s still very good - and, as with any collection of essay-style writing, there are some that work better for me than others. This collection is arranged so that all the ones I really like come at the beginning, and I think I’ll enjoy this much more on re-reading, when I can just skip the ones that didn’t work for me - one piece, in particular, felt much more about the author rather than the subject. I’m writing this without the book and almost two months after reading it, but I loved the Lamb piece and was disgruntled to find nothing of his in the local library system.
A.S. Byatt, Unruly Lives. In addition to lack of Lamb (see previous) the romantic poets seemed like a logical fit with all the manga I’ve been reading (overly intense sibling relationships, drugs, violent revolutions etc), and I’m fond of Coleridge (the result of early exposure via the literary filters of Tim Powers, Jane Langton and Douglas Adams, mainly, although various chunks of poetry are also embedded in my brain). Wordsworth is a harder sell. This follows various themes, usually portrayed in their broader social context, through the lives of both poets, which does mean a certain amount of back-tracking and repetition; I still end up liking Coleridge more, although I suspect Byatt prefers Wordsworth.
Kate Mosse, Labyrinth. Dual-time narrative, present day and during that time period involving vigorous suppression of southern heretics in medieval France - conspiracies, magic, immortality and rather too much research held out for the reader to admire. I preferred the historical track to the present day, which is one of those rather linear narratives where the protagonist makes their way from revelation to revelation in a conveniently chronological fashion. I would also like to read one of these sort of books which was either a) not obsessed with hidden bloodlines and b) involved the revelation of a technology that, while nifty in its time, has long since been discovered.
Emma Bull, Territory. I enjoyed this a lot, although I got to ten pages from the end and felt suddenly unconcluded - is this a series? Because there’s more to tell, and certainly plotlines left unresolved. Searching on the internet doesn’t really help, with even the author’s website being unwilling to commit. I don’t know why publishers think this sort of stealth marketing is a good idea, because all it does is put me off buying anything that doesn’t firmly identify itself. Anyway. Set in Tombstone, in the American West, where things are happening on a number of levels. Excellent characters in a neatly drawn world - I particularly liked Chow Lung, who plays with his own stereotype as he works within its limitations, but it’s unfortunate that, at the end, he becomes as trapped by his fate as many less well done characters.
Charlie Higson, Hurricane Gold. Not as good as Double or Die but not as bad as Blood Fever; this one starts well, and the hurricane itself is a great set piece, but a lot of the power seems to wind down around two-thirds of the way through, and the final evil trap series is not as compelling as it should be. Good supporting cast, tho’, and I like Precious.
Elizabeth George, What came before he shot her. I thought this was a rather gimmicky idea when I heard about it (I would be more specific, but if you know it's obvious and if you don't it's a rather massive spoiler), but it’s actually been turned into a good book, and it’s certainly increased my interest in seeing what George does next. This follows three siblings - Ness, Joel and Toby - after their grandmother dumps them on their aunt and heads back to Jamaica; the set-up is a tragedy waiting to happen, kids with too many strikes against them and too little support in a environment - the housing estates of London - with very little tolerance for error. And, even tho’ I knew the ending (or part of it), it still took me by surprise how upset I was when Helen and Deborah got out of the car at the end, walking to meet their fates.
Deb Caletti, Wild Roses. I read this standing in Kinokuniya and have retained little of it apart from a fondness for the set-up (family of eccentric musical genius (father) deal with the practical difficulties this involves) and annoyance at some rather obvious plotting (a potentially career-destroying broken wrist, which at least isn’t from a car crash).
Veronica Bennett, Fish Feet. Teenage boy doing ballet. Nicely done with some interesting character moments - there’s the recognition that hard work and hope can’t always overcome insufficient talent, as well realistic treatments of how people can react - not always favourably - to being rescued.
Jason Thompson, The complete guide to manga. Does, as they say, what it says on the tin; comprehensive, intriguing, and almost certainly damaging to my credit card. There are essays on various topics interspersed with the text, and the adult titles are dealt with in two separate appendices, and there are far, far too many titles that I now want to read. Very well done.
Jo Walton, Farthing. I was iffy about reading this because a) it sounded like the sort of thing I should love, as I’m fond of Josephine Tey, Dorothy Sayers et al. but b) have either disliked or been not madly keen on the other Walton books I’ve tried (Tooth and Claw didn’t work for me at all, and I admired The King’s Name without really liking it). This, however, was very good, although I liked Lucy’s pov far, far more than I liked the policeman’s (Carmichael? Sorry, book packed), which jarred on me a little too much. The setting, an AU Britain that made a peace with Germany, is particularly effective. I did like the inclusion of homo/bi sexuality, and Lucy’s classical terms for this (Athenian and Roman, maybe?); however, I read these at the same time as I was looking for new running shoes, and as feet also get classified as, I think, either Greek or Egyptian depending on whether your second toe is longer or shorter than your big toe, I am now hopelessly confused. Hopefully I can pick up the second one in paperback soon.
The Blue Sword and The Hero and the Crown. For Yuletide. The Hero and the Crown is my favourite, because Aerin has to fight more, whereas Harry always seems too draped in prophecy and fate to ever need to really make a choice, but I do like both of them a lot.
Alison Bechdel, Fun Home. Her autobiography (well, really, that of her childhood, and a biography of her father - her development as an artist is in The Essential Bechdel), and the first nonmanga comic I’ve read in a while - after a few pages I stopped going backwards. What did feel different, tho’, was the lack of sound effects - I’ve been thinking about how I read prose, in different formats, and prose by itself can give me tactile sensations (I’m thinking, at the moment, of a bit in a Naomi Novik book when someone’s chopping through the neck of a giant sea-serpent - the slime, the resistance and weight of the flesh) that comics don’t, usually; in contrast, manga, in particular, gives me a lot of aural associations, with many actions tagged with sounds that force me to think about a previously assumed soundtrack. Reading Fun Home, which I enjoyed very much, did make me feel as if someone had stuffed cotton wool in my ears.
Marcus Zusak, The messenger. A black market taxi driver in a fringe Australian suburb (I thought he was in Sydney, but I’m not sure this ever gets specified) accidentally prevents a bank robbery; subsequently, a playing card turns up in his letter box, with four names on it, and he has to work out who these people are - and what the sender of the card wants him to do. Mostly, this is very good - good voice, interesting set-up, and the people the cards lead him to are an intriguing mix - but the novel fell apart for me at the end, when Zusak reveals who sent the cards - it’s a denouement that’s barely a step away from “and then he woke up”, which is a shame.
Antonia Forest, Cricket Term. Comfort reading on the plane - always good, always absorbing, and with the slightly prickly resilience of good prose and exact characterisation.
I have a mental short list of authors whose next book I will buy automatically, without even bothering to check the blurb. It’s a dynamic list - Michael Chabon, for example, got onto it with The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, and then fell right back off again with Summerland (and his Sherlock Holmes book I just borrowed from the library and felt bitter enough about that, so The Yiddish Policeman’s Union and Gentlemen of the Road are just going to have to wait until time subdues my irritation); Connie Willis is on there for all full length novels that are not co-written romances; Glen David Gold is on there with, as far as I know, only one book (Carter Beats the Devil); Diana Wynne Jones, despite some recent hiccups…
Anne Fadiman is on there, and although I didn’t like this as much as her two earlier ones it’s still very good - and, as with any collection of essay-style writing, there are some that work better for me than others. This collection is arranged so that all the ones I really like come at the beginning, and I think I’ll enjoy this much more on re-reading, when I can just skip the ones that didn’t work for me - one piece, in particular, felt much more about the author rather than the subject. I’m writing this without the book and almost two months after reading it, but I loved the Lamb piece and was disgruntled to find nothing of his in the local library system.
A.S. Byatt, Unruly Lives. In addition to lack of Lamb (see previous) the romantic poets seemed like a logical fit with all the manga I’ve been reading (overly intense sibling relationships, drugs, violent revolutions etc), and I’m fond of Coleridge (the result of early exposure via the literary filters of Tim Powers, Jane Langton and Douglas Adams, mainly, although various chunks of poetry are also embedded in my brain). Wordsworth is a harder sell. This follows various themes, usually portrayed in their broader social context, through the lives of both poets, which does mean a certain amount of back-tracking and repetition; I still end up liking Coleridge more, although I suspect Byatt prefers Wordsworth.
Kate Mosse, Labyrinth. Dual-time narrative, present day and during that time period involving vigorous suppression of southern heretics in medieval France - conspiracies, magic, immortality and rather too much research held out for the reader to admire. I preferred the historical track to the present day, which is one of those rather linear narratives where the protagonist makes their way from revelation to revelation in a conveniently chronological fashion. I would also like to read one of these sort of books which was either a) not obsessed with hidden bloodlines and b) involved the revelation of a technology that, while nifty in its time, has long since been discovered.
Emma Bull, Territory. I enjoyed this a lot, although I got to ten pages from the end and felt suddenly unconcluded - is this a series? Because there’s more to tell, and certainly plotlines left unresolved. Searching on the internet doesn’t really help, with even the author’s website being unwilling to commit. I don’t know why publishers think this sort of stealth marketing is a good idea, because all it does is put me off buying anything that doesn’t firmly identify itself. Anyway. Set in Tombstone, in the American West, where things are happening on a number of levels. Excellent characters in a neatly drawn world - I particularly liked Chow Lung, who plays with his own stereotype as he works within its limitations, but it’s unfortunate that, at the end, he becomes as trapped by his fate as many less well done characters.
Charlie Higson, Hurricane Gold. Not as good as Double or Die but not as bad as Blood Fever; this one starts well, and the hurricane itself is a great set piece, but a lot of the power seems to wind down around two-thirds of the way through, and the final evil trap series is not as compelling as it should be. Good supporting cast, tho’, and I like Precious.
Elizabeth George, What came before he shot her. I thought this was a rather gimmicky idea when I heard about it (I would be more specific, but if you know it's obvious and if you don't it's a rather massive spoiler), but it’s actually been turned into a good book, and it’s certainly increased my interest in seeing what George does next. This follows three siblings - Ness, Joel and Toby - after their grandmother dumps them on their aunt and heads back to Jamaica; the set-up is a tragedy waiting to happen, kids with too many strikes against them and too little support in a environment - the housing estates of London - with very little tolerance for error. And, even tho’ I knew the ending (or part of it), it still took me by surprise how upset I was when Helen and Deborah got out of the car at the end, walking to meet their fates.
Deb Caletti, Wild Roses. I read this standing in Kinokuniya and have retained little of it apart from a fondness for the set-up (family of eccentric musical genius (father) deal with the practical difficulties this involves) and annoyance at some rather obvious plotting (a potentially career-destroying broken wrist, which at least isn’t from a car crash).
Veronica Bennett, Fish Feet. Teenage boy doing ballet. Nicely done with some interesting character moments - there’s the recognition that hard work and hope can’t always overcome insufficient talent, as well realistic treatments of how people can react - not always favourably - to being rescued.
Jason Thompson, The complete guide to manga. Does, as they say, what it says on the tin; comprehensive, intriguing, and almost certainly damaging to my credit card. There are essays on various topics interspersed with the text, and the adult titles are dealt with in two separate appendices, and there are far, far too many titles that I now want to read. Very well done.
Jo Walton, Farthing. I was iffy about reading this because a) it sounded like the sort of thing I should love, as I’m fond of Josephine Tey, Dorothy Sayers et al. but b) have either disliked or been not madly keen on the other Walton books I’ve tried (Tooth and Claw didn’t work for me at all, and I admired The King’s Name without really liking it). This, however, was very good, although I liked Lucy’s pov far, far more than I liked the policeman’s (Carmichael? Sorry, book packed), which jarred on me a little too much. The setting, an AU Britain that made a peace with Germany, is particularly effective. I did like the inclusion of homo/bi sexuality, and Lucy’s classical terms for this (Athenian and Roman, maybe?); however, I read these at the same time as I was looking for new running shoes, and as feet also get classified as, I think, either Greek or Egyptian depending on whether your second toe is longer or shorter than your big toe, I am now hopelessly confused. Hopefully I can pick up the second one in paperback soon.
The Blue Sword and The Hero and the Crown. For Yuletide. The Hero and the Crown is my favourite, because Aerin has to fight more, whereas Harry always seems too draped in prophecy and fate to ever need to really make a choice, but I do like both of them a lot.
Alison Bechdel, Fun Home. Her autobiography (well, really, that of her childhood, and a biography of her father - her development as an artist is in The Essential Bechdel), and the first nonmanga comic I’ve read in a while - after a few pages I stopped going backwards. What did feel different, tho’, was the lack of sound effects - I’ve been thinking about how I read prose, in different formats, and prose by itself can give me tactile sensations (I’m thinking, at the moment, of a bit in a Naomi Novik book when someone’s chopping through the neck of a giant sea-serpent - the slime, the resistance and weight of the flesh) that comics don’t, usually; in contrast, manga, in particular, gives me a lot of aural associations, with many actions tagged with sounds that force me to think about a previously assumed soundtrack. Reading Fun Home, which I enjoyed very much, did make me feel as if someone had stuffed cotton wool in my ears.
Marcus Zusak, The messenger. A black market taxi driver in a fringe Australian suburb (I thought he was in Sydney, but I’m not sure this ever gets specified) accidentally prevents a bank robbery; subsequently, a playing card turns up in his letter box, with four names on it, and he has to work out who these people are - and what the sender of the card wants him to do. Mostly, this is very good - good voice, interesting set-up, and the people the cards lead him to are an intriguing mix - but the novel fell apart for me at the end, when Zusak reveals who sent the cards - it’s a denouement that’s barely a step away from “and then he woke up”, which is a shame.
Antonia Forest, Cricket Term. Comfort reading on the plane - always good, always absorbing, and with the slightly prickly resilience of good prose and exact characterisation.