Whither Shall I Flee Wednesday
What I'm Not Reading
I gave up about a third of the way through Marriage Most Scandalous by Johanna Lindsey. I decided to try a "Regency" romance for my next attempt at audiobook listening, since it was going cheap at the library book sale. Mary Sue: Vampire Sex Cop remains my most successful audiobook experiment so far, and I figured this would be at about the same level of "it doesn't really matter if you can't follow it." Plus there is a fake marriage plot, which I always like in theory. The characters in this book are constantly saying "bloody hell," which the author seems to think is a generic Britishism she can sprinkle liberally over the dialogue to bring out the tangy British flavor, rather than a serious profanity in the early 19th century or whenever this is supposed to take place. I gave up after the dude kept threatening his fake bride with sexiness by looming over her and growling. I guess technically these are rape threats, but they're not treated that way by the POV; instead she seems to worry that she will be discombobulated by his marbley torso, or otherwise embarrassed. There's a lot of emphatic but unconvincing physicality (unconvincing because everyone is jewels and minerals, like in a mediocre Elizabethan encomium). This is probably all right if it's your thing, but it turns out not to be mine. Will I try another audiobook in the future? Maybe! It's nice to have something to listen to while I clean, even if it's never going to take the place of non-audio books.
What I've Finished Reading
Once when I was tree, African sun woke me up green at dawn.
African wind combed the branches of my hair. African rain washed my limbs.
Once when I was tree, flesh came and worshipped at my roots.
Flesh came to preserve my voice. Flesh came honoring my limbs.
Now flesh comes with metal teeth, with chopping sticks and fire launchers.
And flesh cuts me down and enslaves my limbs to make forts, ships, pews for other gods.
Now flesh laughs at my charred and beaten frame, discarding me in the mud, burning me up in flames.
Flesh has grown pale and lazy. Flesh has sinned against the fathers.
Now flesh listens no more to the voice of spirits talking through my limbs.
If flesh would listen, I would warn him that the spirits are displeased and are planning what to do with him.
But flesh thinks I am dead, charred and gone.
Flesh thinks that by fire he can kill, thinks that with metal teeth I die.
Thinks that all the voices linked from root to limb are silenced.
Flesh does not know that he does not give me life, nor can he take it away.
That is what the spirits are singing now. It is time that flesh bow down on his knee again.
Black Panther: A Nation Under Our Feet: Book One by Ta-Nehisi Coates and Brian Stelfreeze. This is a comic book, and I don't read a lot of comic books. I read this one because I made a resolution back in 2012 to read everything by Ta-Nehisi Coates. I say that not to wave my hipster paragraph snobbery around like a banner, but as a shamefaced excuse for why I don't understand visual storytelling conventions. Brian Stelfreeze's art is beautiful, the character designs range from "perfectly serviceable" to "stunning," and the writing is often beautiful: TNC has taken this opportunity for poetic monologuing and run with it far and fast. There were times, though, when I had no idea what was going on, especially in action scenes that were meant to be important turning points. And it's not that I'm totally unfamiliar with linear narrative art, but there's a combination of sparse narration + elliptical dialogue + crowded action panels that just isn't intuitive to me. I don't know enough about comic books in general to know for sure whether this is a Stelfreeze/Coates problem or just a gap in my education, but I'm assuming it's the latter for now.
The story: the formerly isolationist techno-theocracy Wakanda has been badly damaged by a series of comic book crises, including an apocalyptic flood and an alien invasion. T'Challa, hereditary superhero-king, has returned (probably from a previous series) to put his kingdom in order - but what if the Wakandans don't want a king? Has the monarchy failed Wakanda, or has T'Challa failed the monarchy? There's only one way to sort this out: MONOLOGUES, and plenty of them!
There is also a sister who may or may not be trapped between the spirit world and the physical, and a pair of revolutionary lovers-turned-supersuit terrorists whose storyline I wished I understood a little better, because I think I would have liked it if I did.
In addition to the main story, this book also includes bonus art, sketches, and a reprint of the first appearance of the Black Panther character in a 1961 Fantastic Four comic (also featuring a brief interlude with the Inhumans and tons of energetic cornball narration from Stan Lee).
What I'm Reading Now
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Donkey Boy begins with Richard "Dickie" Maddison sweeping out his new house -- it's typical of Dickie that he thinks of it as "his" and not "ours" -- new bedrooms, a garden, a modern bathroom (a little spoiled by having to be bucket-flushed before the water gets turned on). He imagines finding a place for his beloved things: dark lantern, butterfly net and specimen cases, the truncheon he used as a volunteer deputy before he was married. He listens to a bird sing as he fills the bucket at the cistern. The reverie is spoiled when he comes home to find his dissolute brother-in-law over for dinner -- Hetty thinks her brother's been suffering from arthritis, but Dickie knows it's syphilis and doesn't want him in the house. He makes a big deal out of washing the dishes in carbolic acid, of not eating until after Hugh has left. Hetty and Hughie's happiness is spoiled by Dickie's return; Dickie's happiness is spoiled by the sight of his wife and her brother being happy together. Us always makes a mockery of I and its ideals; that's Dickie's life in a nutshell. Everything contaminates. What could make him change his mind? Probably nothing. Is he ever going to have more than fleeting moments of solitary peace? Probably not. His son is two, bright and curious, but always confused, and the alienation between father and son is already well underway. Poor everyone.
Maybe I should start putting The Count of Monte Cristo in a separate post? Anyway. . .
[Spoilers through Chapter 23] the Adventures of Cinnamon Roll and MacGyver didn't last very long; Abbe Faria has died tragically inside the prison, beseeching Dantes to go forth and find his SECRET BURIED TREASURE, which he found out about by accidentally burning a piece of paper that was written on in invisible ink. This is very much the kind of book where the treasure COULD turn out to be real and not just "within you all along" or "the treasure of friendship," which is exciting! Their secret tunnel allows Dantes and the Abbe to spend many happy days together, learning about math and philosophy and ensuring that the Abbe's MacGyver skills will live on after his death.
When the abbe dies, Dantes THINKS FAST and hides himself in the burial shroud, so the prison workers will carry him out. For some reason, even thought this is a rocky island prison, he thinks he's going to be tossed into a regular grave, where he'll be able to leap out, stab some guards, and dive into the ocean. But of course they just tie a cannonball to his legs and drop him into the sea; what did you expect? Lucky thing Dantes has that knife with him! He cuts himself free just in time, joins up with a smuggling ship (his seamanship is still A+ after fourteen years in prison), and, in a stroke of luck, the smugglers stop on the very island where the SECRET TREASURE is allegedly hidden! Now he's pretending to have broken his ribs so they'll leave him alone on the island. . .OF MONTE CRISTO! Will Dantes find the treasure? Will he find the Count? Will he find an empty bucket and a mocking note? Will his life become a tragic Treasure of Sierra Madre situation when his crew comes back? Will he break his ribs for real? WE JUST DON'T KNOW.
The Count of Monte Cristo continues to be a MAXIMUM DOSE of MAXIMUM FUN and I can't wait to see where this is going.
What I'm Reading Next
NW, Evelyn Waugh, whatever's next in the stack.
I gave up about a third of the way through Marriage Most Scandalous by Johanna Lindsey. I decided to try a "Regency" romance for my next attempt at audiobook listening, since it was going cheap at the library book sale. Mary Sue: Vampire Sex Cop remains my most successful audiobook experiment so far, and I figured this would be at about the same level of "it doesn't really matter if you can't follow it." Plus there is a fake marriage plot, which I always like in theory. The characters in this book are constantly saying "bloody hell," which the author seems to think is a generic Britishism she can sprinkle liberally over the dialogue to bring out the tangy British flavor, rather than a serious profanity in the early 19th century or whenever this is supposed to take place. I gave up after the dude kept threatening his fake bride with sexiness by looming over her and growling. I guess technically these are rape threats, but they're not treated that way by the POV; instead she seems to worry that she will be discombobulated by his marbley torso, or otherwise embarrassed. There's a lot of emphatic but unconvincing physicality (unconvincing because everyone is jewels and minerals, like in a mediocre Elizabethan encomium). This is probably all right if it's your thing, but it turns out not to be mine. Will I try another audiobook in the future? Maybe! It's nice to have something to listen to while I clean, even if it's never going to take the place of non-audio books.
What I've Finished Reading
Once when I was tree, African sun woke me up green at dawn.
African wind combed the branches of my hair. African rain washed my limbs.
Once when I was tree, flesh came and worshipped at my roots.
Flesh came to preserve my voice. Flesh came honoring my limbs.
Now flesh comes with metal teeth, with chopping sticks and fire launchers.
And flesh cuts me down and enslaves my limbs to make forts, ships, pews for other gods.
Now flesh laughs at my charred and beaten frame, discarding me in the mud, burning me up in flames.
Flesh has grown pale and lazy. Flesh has sinned against the fathers.
Now flesh listens no more to the voice of spirits talking through my limbs.
If flesh would listen, I would warn him that the spirits are displeased and are planning what to do with him.
But flesh thinks I am dead, charred and gone.
Flesh thinks that by fire he can kill, thinks that with metal teeth I die.
Thinks that all the voices linked from root to limb are silenced.
Flesh does not know that he does not give me life, nor can he take it away.
That is what the spirits are singing now. It is time that flesh bow down on his knee again.
Black Panther: A Nation Under Our Feet: Book One by Ta-Nehisi Coates and Brian Stelfreeze. This is a comic book, and I don't read a lot of comic books. I read this one because I made a resolution back in 2012 to read everything by Ta-Nehisi Coates. I say that not to wave my hipster paragraph snobbery around like a banner, but as a shamefaced excuse for why I don't understand visual storytelling conventions. Brian Stelfreeze's art is beautiful, the character designs range from "perfectly serviceable" to "stunning," and the writing is often beautiful: TNC has taken this opportunity for poetic monologuing and run with it far and fast. There were times, though, when I had no idea what was going on, especially in action scenes that were meant to be important turning points. And it's not that I'm totally unfamiliar with linear narrative art, but there's a combination of sparse narration + elliptical dialogue + crowded action panels that just isn't intuitive to me. I don't know enough about comic books in general to know for sure whether this is a Stelfreeze/Coates problem or just a gap in my education, but I'm assuming it's the latter for now.
The story: the formerly isolationist techno-theocracy Wakanda has been badly damaged by a series of comic book crises, including an apocalyptic flood and an alien invasion. T'Challa, hereditary superhero-king, has returned (probably from a previous series) to put his kingdom in order - but what if the Wakandans don't want a king? Has the monarchy failed Wakanda, or has T'Challa failed the monarchy? There's only one way to sort this out: MONOLOGUES, and plenty of them!
There is also a sister who may or may not be trapped between the spirit world and the physical, and a pair of revolutionary lovers-turned-supersuit terrorists whose storyline I wished I understood a little better, because I think I would have liked it if I did.
In addition to the main story, this book also includes bonus art, sketches, and a reprint of the first appearance of the Black Panther character in a 1961 Fantastic Four comic (also featuring a brief interlude with the Inhumans and tons of energetic cornball narration from Stan Lee).
What I'm Reading Now
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Donkey Boy begins with Richard "Dickie" Maddison sweeping out his new house -- it's typical of Dickie that he thinks of it as "his" and not "ours" -- new bedrooms, a garden, a modern bathroom (a little spoiled by having to be bucket-flushed before the water gets turned on). He imagines finding a place for his beloved things: dark lantern, butterfly net and specimen cases, the truncheon he used as a volunteer deputy before he was married. He listens to a bird sing as he fills the bucket at the cistern. The reverie is spoiled when he comes home to find his dissolute brother-in-law over for dinner -- Hetty thinks her brother's been suffering from arthritis, but Dickie knows it's syphilis and doesn't want him in the house. He makes a big deal out of washing the dishes in carbolic acid, of not eating until after Hugh has left. Hetty and Hughie's happiness is spoiled by Dickie's return; Dickie's happiness is spoiled by the sight of his wife and her brother being happy together. Us always makes a mockery of I and its ideals; that's Dickie's life in a nutshell. Everything contaminates. What could make him change his mind? Probably nothing. Is he ever going to have more than fleeting moments of solitary peace? Probably not. His son is two, bright and curious, but always confused, and the alienation between father and son is already well underway. Poor everyone.
Maybe I should start putting The Count of Monte Cristo in a separate post? Anyway. . .
[Spoilers through Chapter 23] the Adventures of Cinnamon Roll and MacGyver didn't last very long; Abbe Faria has died tragically inside the prison, beseeching Dantes to go forth and find his SECRET BURIED TREASURE, which he found out about by accidentally burning a piece of paper that was written on in invisible ink. This is very much the kind of book where the treasure COULD turn out to be real and not just "within you all along" or "the treasure of friendship," which is exciting! Their secret tunnel allows Dantes and the Abbe to spend many happy days together, learning about math and philosophy and ensuring that the Abbe's MacGyver skills will live on after his death.
When the abbe dies, Dantes THINKS FAST and hides himself in the burial shroud, so the prison workers will carry him out. For some reason, even thought this is a rocky island prison, he thinks he's going to be tossed into a regular grave, where he'll be able to leap out, stab some guards, and dive into the ocean. But of course they just tie a cannonball to his legs and drop him into the sea; what did you expect? Lucky thing Dantes has that knife with him! He cuts himself free just in time, joins up with a smuggling ship (his seamanship is still A+ after fourteen years in prison), and, in a stroke of luck, the smugglers stop on the very island where the SECRET TREASURE is allegedly hidden! Now he's pretending to have broken his ribs so they'll leave him alone on the island. . .OF MONTE CRISTO! Will Dantes find the treasure? Will he find the Count? Will he find an empty bucket and a mocking note? Will his life become a tragic Treasure of Sierra Madre situation when his crew comes back? Will he break his ribs for real? WE JUST DON'T KNOW.
The Count of Monte Cristo continues to be a MAXIMUM DOSE of MAXIMUM FUN and I can't wait to see where this is going.
What I'm Reading Next
NW, Evelyn Waugh, whatever's next in the stack.