Of ficathons and books read
Only two more days to sign up for 
startrekholidays! Come on, you know you want to. How else is Janeway going to meet Georgiou?
Speaking of exchanges, Yuletide nomination time is almost upon us, and since I've spent the last month or so having immense fun swapping stories about Frederick the Great and assorted contemporaries with
cahn and
mildred_of_midgard - for more about how and why this is fun see this post - it looks like I'm volunteering to write in the newly so dubbed "18th Century Frederician RPF" fandom. Not "18th Century Prussia", which was nominated last year, because yours truly has set her heart on getting the Austrians in - to wit, Maria Theresia and Joseph II - and possibly wants to branch out to the French as well. Anyway,
cahn has already drafted a fabulous promo post - as required by Yuletide rules - which will soon be up.
ETA:
cahn's Yuletide promo post: 18th Century Frederician RPF!
In other news, I've read The Testaments by Margaret Atwood. Generally speaking, I'm wary of sequels (unless the author from the beginning announces his book will take up more than one volume and she/he's aiming for a saga). And I've heard nothing good about s2 and s3 of the tv version of The Handmaid's Tale. But Margaret Atwood, when I saw and heard her at last year's Frankfurt Book Fair, was so fabulously together, sharp and to the point that I couldn't imagine her writing a book unless she really really wanted to, which at the very least would make it worth reading. Also, my first Atwood wasn't The Handmaid's Tale but The Robber Bride, and thus I'm not so much emotionally tied to Handmaid's Tale.
Judgment without spoilers: definitely worth reading. It's set fifteen years after the events of the earlier books, chooses another format - I would say the tropes she mostly plays with are spy thrillers, of all the things -, and has three different narrators, only one of whom showed up as a character of note in the original novel (the other two did, too, sort of, kinda, but without actual characterisation due to their, hm, age), and all of whom have a different perspective than Offred did, so Atwood doesn't repeat herself. (Since one of the narrators is Aunt Lydia, otoh, she does include flashbacks on the early Gilead days from Lydia's pov, though. I'm told the tv show did an episode about Lydia's past in its recent seasons which, however, is different from the past provided in the novel. Since I only watched the first season, I couldn't say.)
Back when The Handmaid's Tale first was published, in the 80s, I suspect a lot of readers must have thought it couldn't happen in the US. The world - and alas the US - has changed a lot since then, and the impression I had was that Atwood is very aware dystopia as a warning isn't necessary anymore. Instead, some hope at the end of the tunnel - how to fight dystopia, so to speak - is more needed than ever, which I felt was what the novel was going for. There's also a lot of cooperation - enforced, voluntary, with emotional blackmail, out of dire necessity, out of affection, all variations - and as totalitarian dicatorships go, the utter corruption of Gilead within feels very familiar (and satisfyingly is used against it).
I don't think Atwood succeeds with all characters on the same level. We get Lydia, Agnes (previously known under another name) who starts out as a true believer due to being raised in Gilead, and Daisy (who also has other names) who grew up in Canada in circumstances closest to current day readers. Ironically, Daisy, as a more or less normal teenager (whose actions often are either brave or stupid, it's hard to tell which one - not unusual for teens) is the least convincing of the three. Lydia, who is Atwood's own age and whose pre-Gilead life was a good one, with her being successful in her career, a judge even, until the coup shattered her world and laid bare her survival instincts that made her decide to not just live by coooperation but by forming and getting on top (as much as a woman can) of the hierarchy), is the most powerful voice, and not because of her job but because Atwood gives her a mordant wit and long-term plotting skills which reminded me of Le Carré's (inevitably male) older spy masters playing the long game. Atwood doesn't avoid the moral dimension, either; Lydia's long term goal might be beneficial to people not her, but what she does on the way to get there, and not just to survive, is horrible. As much as it's viciously satisfying to haver her outwitting people who assumed she was their tool, the novel also reminds us, via one character in particular, of the human sacrifices. (Fitting the shady spy thriller genre.)
Agnes, the true believer getting gradually aware that what she's been raised to believe is full of contradictions and holes, is more convincing than normal Daisy, and I appreciate she doesn't suddenly throw off all her Gleadian ideas but clings to the "okay, the way Gilead is now is wrong, but surely reform will help?" bridge that feels very familiar, too. (And is missing from any a rebels versus evil overlords scenario in movies, books and tv.) She's also the perspective that allows Atwood to describe the non-Handmaids roles Gilead has for women from within, as Daisy goes from privileged daughter (or "daughter") of a Commander to second rate family member (when her "father" remarries and his new wife wants a "daughter" of her own) hanging out most with the Marthas, to almost married off and avoiding it by volunteering to become an Aunt instead.
All in all: a captivating book. Probably not destined to become a postmodern classic as well, but I'm glad to have read it. (Still staying away from the later seasons of the tv show, though.) This entry was originally posted at https://selenak.dreamwidth.org/1366981.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.
startrekholidays! Come on, you know you want to. How else is Janeway going to meet Georgiou?
Speaking of exchanges, Yuletide nomination time is almost upon us, and since I've spent the last month or so having immense fun swapping stories about Frederick the Great and assorted contemporaries with
cahn and
mildred_of_midgard - for more about how and why this is fun see this post - it looks like I'm volunteering to write in the newly so dubbed "18th Century Frederician RPF" fandom. Not "18th Century Prussia", which was nominated last year, because yours truly has set her heart on getting the Austrians in - to wit, Maria Theresia and Joseph II - and possibly wants to branch out to the French as well. Anyway,
cahn has already drafted a fabulous promo post - as required by Yuletide rules - which will soon be up.
ETA:
cahn's Yuletide promo post: 18th Century Frederician RPF!
In other news, I've read The Testaments by Margaret Atwood. Generally speaking, I'm wary of sequels (unless the author from the beginning announces his book will take up more than one volume and she/he's aiming for a saga). And I've heard nothing good about s2 and s3 of the tv version of The Handmaid's Tale. But Margaret Atwood, when I saw and heard her at last year's Frankfurt Book Fair, was so fabulously together, sharp and to the point that I couldn't imagine her writing a book unless she really really wanted to, which at the very least would make it worth reading. Also, my first Atwood wasn't The Handmaid's Tale but The Robber Bride, and thus I'm not so much emotionally tied to Handmaid's Tale.
Judgment without spoilers: definitely worth reading. It's set fifteen years after the events of the earlier books, chooses another format - I would say the tropes she mostly plays with are spy thrillers, of all the things -, and has three different narrators, only one of whom showed up as a character of note in the original novel (the other two did, too, sort of, kinda, but without actual characterisation due to their, hm, age), and all of whom have a different perspective than Offred did, so Atwood doesn't repeat herself. (Since one of the narrators is Aunt Lydia, otoh, she does include flashbacks on the early Gilead days from Lydia's pov, though. I'm told the tv show did an episode about Lydia's past in its recent seasons which, however, is different from the past provided in the novel. Since I only watched the first season, I couldn't say.)
Back when The Handmaid's Tale first was published, in the 80s, I suspect a lot of readers must have thought it couldn't happen in the US. The world - and alas the US - has changed a lot since then, and the impression I had was that Atwood is very aware dystopia as a warning isn't necessary anymore. Instead, some hope at the end of the tunnel - how to fight dystopia, so to speak - is more needed than ever, which I felt was what the novel was going for. There's also a lot of cooperation - enforced, voluntary, with emotional blackmail, out of dire necessity, out of affection, all variations - and as totalitarian dicatorships go, the utter corruption of Gilead within feels very familiar (and satisfyingly is used against it).
I don't think Atwood succeeds with all characters on the same level. We get Lydia, Agnes (previously known under another name) who starts out as a true believer due to being raised in Gilead, and Daisy (who also has other names) who grew up in Canada in circumstances closest to current day readers. Ironically, Daisy, as a more or less normal teenager (whose actions often are either brave or stupid, it's hard to tell which one - not unusual for teens) is the least convincing of the three. Lydia, who is Atwood's own age and whose pre-Gilead life was a good one, with her being successful in her career, a judge even, until the coup shattered her world and laid bare her survival instincts that made her decide to not just live by coooperation but by forming and getting on top (as much as a woman can) of the hierarchy), is the most powerful voice, and not because of her job but because Atwood gives her a mordant wit and long-term plotting skills which reminded me of Le Carré's (inevitably male) older spy masters playing the long game. Atwood doesn't avoid the moral dimension, either; Lydia's long term goal might be beneficial to people not her, but what she does on the way to get there, and not just to survive, is horrible. As much as it's viciously satisfying to haver her outwitting people who assumed she was their tool, the novel also reminds us, via one character in particular, of the human sacrifices. (Fitting the shady spy thriller genre.)
Agnes, the true believer getting gradually aware that what she's been raised to believe is full of contradictions and holes, is more convincing than normal Daisy, and I appreciate she doesn't suddenly throw off all her Gleadian ideas but clings to the "okay, the way Gilead is now is wrong, but surely reform will help?" bridge that feels very familiar, too. (And is missing from any a rebels versus evil overlords scenario in movies, books and tv.) She's also the perspective that allows Atwood to describe the non-Handmaids roles Gilead has for women from within, as Daisy goes from privileged daughter (or "daughter") of a Commander to second rate family member (when her "father" remarries and his new wife wants a "daughter" of her own) hanging out most with the Marthas, to almost married off and avoiding it by volunteering to become an Aunt instead.
All in all: a captivating book. Probably not destined to become a postmodern classic as well, but I'm glad to have read it. (Still staying away from the later seasons of the tv show, though.) This entry was originally posted at https://selenak.dreamwidth.org/1366981.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.