Danger! Chaos! Paint!
My house is no longer a fiery death trap! Or, at least, we are aware of no further fiery death trap problems at this time, though I have every confidence, based on past experience, that my next seemingly-benign home improvement project will uncover some new and exciting problem. And the rest of the work, including re-plastering the giant hole in my kitchen ceiling and re-painting all of the rooms in the front half of my house, is done. Let me tell you, scraping paint off tile with a razor blade is no fun whatsoever. My mother and I spent Monday and Tuesday nights in a hotel while the painting was being done, although thanks to my brother's Hilton points, we ended up staying right off Union Square, and that was kind of fun.
Last night I came home and saw the paint job for the first time. I like the color of green I picked very much; it has a vaguely vintage-y feel that I think goes well with the curved ceilings and period trim. It is a much bluer/grayer green than my kitchen, but that's just something I'm going to have to live with. Next year is phase 2 of the painting, the back half, when I coordinate front and back. In a few more years, my beloved money pit might start looking like a real house and not the throw-down of the world's oldest college student.
And while my mother's visit has actually been very nice and mostly devoid of spats (which is something of a miracle, considering some of the stress and uncertainty with the repair arrangements), I'm looking forward to having my space and free time back. I'm behind on TV, haven't had much time online, and managed to download vids last weekend but haven't had a chance to watch them yet. My DVD arrived yesterday but I haven't opened it. (Mom: "What's that? A DVD? What is it?" Me: "Yes. A MYSTERY DVD." *hides in sock drawer*)
And now that I have pretty much finished having a heart attack from all of the unexpected problems and schedule juggling and the cost overruns, I can start having a heart attack because I am not ready for Dragon*Con (OMG 7 DAYS!!!) and will not have much time to get ready between when my mother leaves and I do. (This is, of course, the perfect time for my satellite TV to go out. NOT ON, DIRECTV.) I'd still say a good 90% of my excitement over Dragon*Con derives from seeing so many good friends, but now I am also inordinately giddy/on the verge of hyperventilation because Claudia Black will be there, and the general potential for awesome in the Stargate panels this year. *crosses fingers that Christopher Judge won't cancel at the last minute like he did last year* And I guess Jason Momoa is going to be there too?
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Speaking of genre, apparently at some point I went, "Oh, screw it, I'm reading genre fiction this summer."
The Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson: There were things I really liked about this novel, and others that I felt were hopelessly confused. Most of all, I liked Stephenson's language, as I always do, and his ability to meld technology and pop culture, to pick up on the inevitable ends to certain kinds of developments, in this case nanotechnology and bioengineering. There was an interesting contrast between the resources available to the wealthy and, accidentally, to Nell--in a world where physical necessities are dispensed from public stations, handmade things and individual attention and teaching are cultural markers, the things that set the elite apart, and Nell excelled not only because she gained access to a marvelous piece of teaching technology but because there was a human component, a form of relationship, behind it, and because the education based on that relationship opened more doors to individual attention for her. This is in marked contrast to the education of the Chinese orphan girls, who receive copies of the same book but are raised in dormitories, whose books are not built around interaction with a live person, and who never achieve any kind of individuality in the novel. And, really, that's the case with most of the Chinese elements in the story; the New Victorians with their explicit emulation of old colonial models are drawn as a fully realized society, but I was never able to figure out much about the aims of the threatening Chinese political movement, other than their desire to retake their own culture and their fanaticism in doing so, and there was something uncomfortably, well, colonial about the way Nell took over as leader of all those nameless Chinese girls in the end. The first part of the book, where the New Victorian social construct served as backdrop for Nell and Harvey's Oliver Twist-like story, and where class was the focus, felt much tighter than the second half, where Nell trying to fit herself in in a place between worlds, the plot elements involving Doctor X and Judge Fang, Miranda's obsession with Nell and Nell's interest in finding Miranda, and the Drummers got caught up and washed aside in the rush to the final, climactic battle, which despite all that preceded it didn't feel like a terribly organic development.
The Dresden Files series by Jim Butcher:
1. Storm Front
2. Fool Moon
3. Grave Peril
4. Summer Knight
5. Death Masks
6. Blood Rites
7. Dead Beat
8. Proven Guilty
I complained about Butcher's iffy handling of female characters at the start of the series, and in general, Storm Front has a lot of awkward characterization and dialogue and exposition (including starting each chapter with a recap of what just happened at the end of the previous chapter, which is seriously irritating) that gets much smoother as the series progresses; I'm glad I wasn't remembering that wrong. And although Harry never quite gets over his self-righteous chivalry, I like that it becomes a genuine problem for him--he tries to shield the women in his life from darker things and leaves them less able to protect themselves, Murphy at least resents him for it with good reason, and he ends up running up against a number of powerful female adversaries and being hampered by his misplaced squeamishness. It's not that the issues disappear (Susan and Harry's uneasy tolerance of Thomas's feeding on female victims are, I think, particularly problematic, and Harry is written as a reluctant babe-magnet throughout, with all of the cliche that entails), but all of the characters in the series gain depth from book to book, and Harry becomes less cocky and more flawed, confronting the consequences of his own actions, and by the time Proven Guilty rolls around, they have become a self-sustaining, interwoven part of the novels' world.
Butcher does some really interesting plotting, and some very good worldbuilding: his vision of magic and the otherworld that exists side-by-side with mundane Chicago are internally consistent, limited by practical boundaries, and full of interesting imagery: the cold and inhuman big band dance hall of the Winter Court, the plant monster showdown at WalMart, the shadowy demon elements of the Denarians, the drum beats that animate zombies. It's also a fairly adult world; although it's hard to get starker in terms of good and evil than demons and angels, these beings are, in Dresden's world, more complex than their mythologies suggest, and the human actors are largely animated by greed and selfishness, or desperation, rather than inherent darkness. And I enjoy the novels' continuity, the way elements carry over from book to book, from background pieces to parts of the main plot, creating conflicts that develop organically from the characters and their history--part of the initial awkwardness of the first book probably stems from the way all this history comes out as exposition, but once that's out of the way, Harry's relationship with the White Council and the Sidhe and the magical underworld of Chicago are things the reader experiences with him, and the reader has the weight of that history once Harry becomes a Warden, becomes a mentor to Molly the way Ebeneezer was to him, and keeps getting entangled in internal Faerie politics. Harry's struggle with Lasciel is particularly interesting, rooted as it is in his vulnerabilities--mistrust of his own darkness, disbelief that others could handle it if they knew all of him, determination to struggle alone, with the potential for failure that invites, and the struggles with Lasciel and the White Council's war with the Red Court create a nice, arc-y foundation for the individual case files.
Overall, after a bumpy start, I've been enjoying the series.
Downbelow Station by C.J. Cherryh: I found Cherryh's prose style to be dry bordering on arid; she is certainly skilled with words, but in a way that invites abstraction and distant, intellectual examination rather than visceral, emotional engagement. The novel's political universe is interesting, obviously rooted in the Cold War--communally-minded Union, growing soldiers from vats and eschewing individuality, seeking to absorb pieces into its whole, versus the remnants of a commercial empire whose profit-driven decision-making was sometimes terribly short-sighted and unfocused. But threaded through it all is the idea of empty space, vast distances, and a planet where humans can't breathe without artificial help: all life depends on systems, on the predictable flow of vital resources, on stationers (with their relationships with the emotional, spiritually driven Downers) and merchanters (with their fierce clan loyalty) and the way their measured, almost tribal cultures and complex, honor-based agreements, separate from both Union and Company, create a structure that permits survival in that environment. The insular but cooperative norms utilized by the stationers and merchanters comes in sharp contrast to two different displays of feral individuality: the refugees in Q, where it's every man for himself and the strongest only survive by standing on the backs of the weak, and the rigidly disciplined selfishness of Mazian's fleet, which has gone from fighting a cause to existing as a parasite, exploitating vulnerable stations and turning its eventual hungry attention back to its point of origin, Earth. I found it difficult to engage with most of the characters, but thought the emotional triangle of Josh Talley, Angelo Konstantin, and Signy Mallory--the exiled Unioner, the heir who had lost his inheritance, and the mutinous captain--was effective, all three more flexible than they first appeared, tied together by uneasy alliance, and because of that flexibility able to pragmatically ride out a deteriorating situation and create a new balance.
The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin: I really, really enjoyed this novel. Le Guin's prose is wonderful, precise and evocative, and she uses carefully telling details, accumulated over time, to build a picture of the societies on Anarres and Urras, and their competing political and philosophical worldviews, rooted in their very ecologies--Urras capitalistic and divided, a wealth based in abundant natural resources unevenly divided between the few haves and the many have-nots, and Anarres, sparse and arid, populated by a deliberately constructed utopian society that husbands and distributes its few natural resources effectively without seeming to need any form of government, but where an alternate system of unspoken but rigid social control has flourished. Shevek, the physicist, the dreamer, for whom the truth is its own end, attempts to bridge the space between them, finding things to admire and fight against in both. LeGuin draws out the human element common in both sides--the ineradicable greed and desire for power, fear of change and internalized drive for conformity on one hand and yearning toward the ideal, impulses toward social justice on the other--in the contrast between two very different modes of social and economic organization without every becoming preachy or didactic or, in my reading, choosing sides. Before I read this novel, my experience of Le Guin's writing was limited to the Earthsea trilogy, and I intend to remedy that.
Last night I came home and saw the paint job for the first time. I like the color of green I picked very much; it has a vaguely vintage-y feel that I think goes well with the curved ceilings and period trim. It is a much bluer/grayer green than my kitchen, but that's just something I'm going to have to live with. Next year is phase 2 of the painting, the back half, when I coordinate front and back. In a few more years, my beloved money pit might start looking like a real house and not the throw-down of the world's oldest college student.
And while my mother's visit has actually been very nice and mostly devoid of spats (which is something of a miracle, considering some of the stress and uncertainty with the repair arrangements), I'm looking forward to having my space and free time back. I'm behind on TV, haven't had much time online, and managed to download vids last weekend but haven't had a chance to watch them yet. My DVD arrived yesterday but I haven't opened it. (Mom: "What's that? A DVD? What is it?" Me: "Yes. A MYSTERY DVD." *hides in sock drawer*)
And now that I have pretty much finished having a heart attack from all of the unexpected problems and schedule juggling and the cost overruns, I can start having a heart attack because I am not ready for Dragon*Con (OMG 7 DAYS!!!) and will not have much time to get ready between when my mother leaves and I do. (This is, of course, the perfect time for my satellite TV to go out. NOT ON, DIRECTV.) I'd still say a good 90% of my excitement over Dragon*Con derives from seeing so many good friends, but now I am also inordinately giddy/on the verge of hyperventilation because Claudia Black will be there, and the general potential for awesome in the Stargate panels this year. *crosses fingers that Christopher Judge won't cancel at the last minute like he did last year* And I guess Jason Momoa is going to be there too?
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- sdwolfpup and brynnmck have created the bitchinparty community for Pacificon, the new multi-fandom convention that's going to happen in Seattle on March 28-30, 2008. I think the name is a reference to some terrible TV show? FITTING. If you think you might be interested in the con, that's the community to watch.
- The New Yorker has run an interesting piece on Phillip K. Dick. (via bookslut) I think it's overall an appreciative look at Dick's work, one that rightly roots its resonance in the ability of science fiction to explore human truths, but the writer still clings to the old literature/genre divide that half the article actually seems to contradict.
- Look at this adorable lab puppy! She's chewing something in at least half the pictures. HEE.
- I seem to recall jonquil hosting a discussion of the worst fake accents in film at one point; my suggestion, Keanu Reeves in Dracula, made this list. (via Defamer) And now I have wasted a good twenty minutes poking around all of the random interesting stuff at Deputy Dog, like Kowloon Walled City.
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Speaking of genre, apparently at some point I went, "Oh, screw it, I'm reading genre fiction this summer."
The Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson: There were things I really liked about this novel, and others that I felt were hopelessly confused. Most of all, I liked Stephenson's language, as I always do, and his ability to meld technology and pop culture, to pick up on the inevitable ends to certain kinds of developments, in this case nanotechnology and bioengineering. There was an interesting contrast between the resources available to the wealthy and, accidentally, to Nell--in a world where physical necessities are dispensed from public stations, handmade things and individual attention and teaching are cultural markers, the things that set the elite apart, and Nell excelled not only because she gained access to a marvelous piece of teaching technology but because there was a human component, a form of relationship, behind it, and because the education based on that relationship opened more doors to individual attention for her. This is in marked contrast to the education of the Chinese orphan girls, who receive copies of the same book but are raised in dormitories, whose books are not built around interaction with a live person, and who never achieve any kind of individuality in the novel. And, really, that's the case with most of the Chinese elements in the story; the New Victorians with their explicit emulation of old colonial models are drawn as a fully realized society, but I was never able to figure out much about the aims of the threatening Chinese political movement, other than their desire to retake their own culture and their fanaticism in doing so, and there was something uncomfortably, well, colonial about the way Nell took over as leader of all those nameless Chinese girls in the end. The first part of the book, where the New Victorian social construct served as backdrop for Nell and Harvey's Oliver Twist-like story, and where class was the focus, felt much tighter than the second half, where Nell trying to fit herself in in a place between worlds, the plot elements involving Doctor X and Judge Fang, Miranda's obsession with Nell and Nell's interest in finding Miranda, and the Drummers got caught up and washed aside in the rush to the final, climactic battle, which despite all that preceded it didn't feel like a terribly organic development.
The Dresden Files series by Jim Butcher:
1. Storm Front
2. Fool Moon
3. Grave Peril
4. Summer Knight
5. Death Masks
6. Blood Rites
7. Dead Beat
8. Proven Guilty
I complained about Butcher's iffy handling of female characters at the start of the series, and in general, Storm Front has a lot of awkward characterization and dialogue and exposition (including starting each chapter with a recap of what just happened at the end of the previous chapter, which is seriously irritating) that gets much smoother as the series progresses; I'm glad I wasn't remembering that wrong. And although Harry never quite gets over his self-righteous chivalry, I like that it becomes a genuine problem for him--he tries to shield the women in his life from darker things and leaves them less able to protect themselves, Murphy at least resents him for it with good reason, and he ends up running up against a number of powerful female adversaries and being hampered by his misplaced squeamishness. It's not that the issues disappear (Susan and Harry's uneasy tolerance of Thomas's feeding on female victims are, I think, particularly problematic, and Harry is written as a reluctant babe-magnet throughout, with all of the cliche that entails), but all of the characters in the series gain depth from book to book, and Harry becomes less cocky and more flawed, confronting the consequences of his own actions, and by the time Proven Guilty rolls around, they have become a self-sustaining, interwoven part of the novels' world.
Butcher does some really interesting plotting, and some very good worldbuilding: his vision of magic and the otherworld that exists side-by-side with mundane Chicago are internally consistent, limited by practical boundaries, and full of interesting imagery: the cold and inhuman big band dance hall of the Winter Court, the plant monster showdown at WalMart, the shadowy demon elements of the Denarians, the drum beats that animate zombies. It's also a fairly adult world; although it's hard to get starker in terms of good and evil than demons and angels, these beings are, in Dresden's world, more complex than their mythologies suggest, and the human actors are largely animated by greed and selfishness, or desperation, rather than inherent darkness. And I enjoy the novels' continuity, the way elements carry over from book to book, from background pieces to parts of the main plot, creating conflicts that develop organically from the characters and their history--part of the initial awkwardness of the first book probably stems from the way all this history comes out as exposition, but once that's out of the way, Harry's relationship with the White Council and the Sidhe and the magical underworld of Chicago are things the reader experiences with him, and the reader has the weight of that history once Harry becomes a Warden, becomes a mentor to Molly the way Ebeneezer was to him, and keeps getting entangled in internal Faerie politics. Harry's struggle with Lasciel is particularly interesting, rooted as it is in his vulnerabilities--mistrust of his own darkness, disbelief that others could handle it if they knew all of him, determination to struggle alone, with the potential for failure that invites, and the struggles with Lasciel and the White Council's war with the Red Court create a nice, arc-y foundation for the individual case files.
Overall, after a bumpy start, I've been enjoying the series.
Downbelow Station by C.J. Cherryh: I found Cherryh's prose style to be dry bordering on arid; she is certainly skilled with words, but in a way that invites abstraction and distant, intellectual examination rather than visceral, emotional engagement. The novel's political universe is interesting, obviously rooted in the Cold War--communally-minded Union, growing soldiers from vats and eschewing individuality, seeking to absorb pieces into its whole, versus the remnants of a commercial empire whose profit-driven decision-making was sometimes terribly short-sighted and unfocused. But threaded through it all is the idea of empty space, vast distances, and a planet where humans can't breathe without artificial help: all life depends on systems, on the predictable flow of vital resources, on stationers (with their relationships with the emotional, spiritually driven Downers) and merchanters (with their fierce clan loyalty) and the way their measured, almost tribal cultures and complex, honor-based agreements, separate from both Union and Company, create a structure that permits survival in that environment. The insular but cooperative norms utilized by the stationers and merchanters comes in sharp contrast to two different displays of feral individuality: the refugees in Q, where it's every man for himself and the strongest only survive by standing on the backs of the weak, and the rigidly disciplined selfishness of Mazian's fleet, which has gone from fighting a cause to existing as a parasite, exploitating vulnerable stations and turning its eventual hungry attention back to its point of origin, Earth. I found it difficult to engage with most of the characters, but thought the emotional triangle of Josh Talley, Angelo Konstantin, and Signy Mallory--the exiled Unioner, the heir who had lost his inheritance, and the mutinous captain--was effective, all three more flexible than they first appeared, tied together by uneasy alliance, and because of that flexibility able to pragmatically ride out a deteriorating situation and create a new balance.
The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin: I really, really enjoyed this novel. Le Guin's prose is wonderful, precise and evocative, and she uses carefully telling details, accumulated over time, to build a picture of the societies on Anarres and Urras, and their competing political and philosophical worldviews, rooted in their very ecologies--Urras capitalistic and divided, a wealth based in abundant natural resources unevenly divided between the few haves and the many have-nots, and Anarres, sparse and arid, populated by a deliberately constructed utopian society that husbands and distributes its few natural resources effectively without seeming to need any form of government, but where an alternate system of unspoken but rigid social control has flourished. Shevek, the physicist, the dreamer, for whom the truth is its own end, attempts to bridge the space between them, finding things to admire and fight against in both. LeGuin draws out the human element common in both sides--the ineradicable greed and desire for power, fear of change and internalized drive for conformity on one hand and yearning toward the ideal, impulses toward social justice on the other--in the contrast between two very different modes of social and economic organization without every becoming preachy or didactic or, in my reading, choosing sides. Before I read this novel, my experience of Le Guin's writing was limited to the Earthsea trilogy, and I intend to remedy that.