Better do something important with your time.
I went to look at my booklist in preparation for posting for the first time in a while and discovered I've read twelve books in the last thirty-two days. So I guess that's what I've been doing while I've been not posting. That and watching a lot of Holmes on Homes.
As for the books: four of them were Megan Whalen Turner's Queen's Thief series, which I loved very nearly as much as iuliamentis told me I would, despite the events indicated by the cover art of The Queen of Attolia. I got over it eventually. Also, possibly, just possibly, Sophos is my favorite. Unless Eddis is my favorite. So hard to decide!
I also read two books about dragons, which I loved--naominovik's Victory of Eagles and Tongues of Serpents--and a book about math from 1966 that turned out to be weirdly revealing of the 1966-ness of the author's mindset in more things than gender roles. It had a concluding chapter about the future of math/computing/humanity which can be summed up as "Well, look, we'll bomb ourselves to extinction inside the next thousand years, so why sweat it?"
I read A Room of One's Own for the first time, feeling slightly backward since I read Joanna Russ's How to Suppress Women's Writing last year, and more grateful than ever to have been born in the 1980s in preference to any earlier decade. Right after that I read Carr & Kefalas's (but not that Kefalas's) Hollowing Out the Middle, about the rural brain drain. I grew up in a smallish town and never, past the age of about ten, imagined living there as an adult, though the vast majority of my classmates did stay put; it's strange to think about the systematic nature of the going and staying that went on.
In addition to all the books, I read some short things, too: Cyril Simsa's Daughters of Fortune (Prague! Rusalka!) and Ilan Lerman's Saint Stephen Street (Amnesia AND the weather apocalypse!) will both stick in my head for a while.
Oh and also somewhere in between books earlier this week, I submitted a story for the first time in not quite two years, after much critique and dithering and re-writing and extra dithering. Since I sent it to Writers of the Future and the quarter doesn't even close for another two months, I have time to read about seventy more books before I hear anything, but luckily my to-read list is very long. Very, very long.
As for the books: four of them were Megan Whalen Turner's Queen's Thief series, which I loved very nearly as much as iuliamentis told me I would, despite the events indicated by the cover art of The Queen of Attolia. I got over it eventually. Also, possibly, just possibly, Sophos is my favorite. Unless Eddis is my favorite. So hard to decide!
I also read two books about dragons, which I loved--naominovik's Victory of Eagles and Tongues of Serpents--and a book about math from 1966 that turned out to be weirdly revealing of the 1966-ness of the author's mindset in more things than gender roles. It had a concluding chapter about the future of math/computing/humanity which can be summed up as "Well, look, we'll bomb ourselves to extinction inside the next thousand years, so why sweat it?"
I read A Room of One's Own for the first time, feeling slightly backward since I read Joanna Russ's How to Suppress Women's Writing last year, and more grateful than ever to have been born in the 1980s in preference to any earlier decade. Right after that I read Carr & Kefalas's (but not that Kefalas's) Hollowing Out the Middle, about the rural brain drain. I grew up in a smallish town and never, past the age of about ten, imagined living there as an adult, though the vast majority of my classmates did stay put; it's strange to think about the systematic nature of the going and staying that went on.
In addition to all the books, I read some short things, too: Cyril Simsa's Daughters of Fortune (Prague! Rusalka!) and Ilan Lerman's Saint Stephen Street (Amnesia AND the weather apocalypse!) will both stick in my head for a while.
Oh and also somewhere in between books earlier this week, I submitted a story for the first time in not quite two years, after much critique and dithering and re-writing and extra dithering. Since I sent it to Writers of the Future and the quarter doesn't even close for another two months, I have time to read about seventy more books before I hear anything, but luckily my to-read list is very long. Very, very long.