You can probably insert something about "In Soviet Russia" here.
I FINALLY finished rereading the EDA Parallel 59 after weeks of spending on it (the problem with only reading it during mealtimes, when I can be arsed...). It's probably the first time I've read it since, er, *checks publishing date* 2000?
I was surprised at how good it was. I think it's always been overshadowed for me by Frontier Worlds from that era of the EDAs (the only real similarity being first person narration by Fitz, but for some reason I'd completely forgotten Fitz wrote a diary in this book, and I don't remember being impressed with it back then). It reminds me very much of the Cold War--even the way I see the secret base, the architectural design and clothing worn by the people from Parallel 59 and, well, evreything about the society--it makes me think of the 1950s and the Soviet Union, though that could just be me. But all that paranoia and fear, yes, seems very much the Cold War to me.
And the OCs are fantastic, very well drawn, particularly because you're getting everything from their (limited third person) perspective but you as the reader can still step back and go "Ohhhh, this is so not good." (I'm thinking particularly of Narkompros here, who in the end comes off more sympathetically than I would have imagined at the beginning of the book.) Dam's my favorite of them, I think; he's completely ill-fitted for his position, and he's just muddling along ignoring the fact that everything is wrong until in the end, he actually makes a decision. And then dies. Not a tragic hero, but it was not hard at all to be sympathetic with him and wish he'd gotten a better ending.
Two things that sort of bugged me about the book--the unexpected entrance of the people from Haltiel. (Seriously, WTF? Did the authors give up and say "Crap, we've gotta end the book, we're at page 250? And this is totally the way a '50s B-movie would end, let's do it!"?) It was too abrupt, it created a mass-scale tragedy that we all basically ignore, and then they just...left. I do think it's some sort of homage to Cold War apocalyptic stories, and it does fit the paranoia and fear of the story since they *did* keep coming up as a distant and unlikely threat, but in any case it didn't quite gel for me.
The other thing was the back and forth with the pov in Fitz's sections from first person to third person limited. It's something extremely hard to do, being consistent with your pov, and when you switch like that, it bothers me. (I could be being hypocritical here, but I don't think I am--when I switch pov, it's between characters; if I started writing first person with a particular character, I stick with that throughout.) I know, they were using the "writing a diary" device, which doesn't work when you're in the middle of a Situation and can't exactly have your protagonist pull out his pen and paper, but I prefer consistency.
The same thing bugged me in the Amelia Peabody Emerson mysteries by Elizabeth Peters (I know, let's jump genre completely!). In a handful of books, she interspersed letters by Nefret into the story, thereby giving Nefret's pov on events. But in one particularly important book for Nefret's character arc, the person to whom she was writing actually showed up halfway through at a singularly important moment, thereby cutting out Nefret's need to write letters and, well, effectively silencing her character for the rest of that book. Again, Peters probably had to do that so as to keep the readers in suspense and not destroy the ending (which was devastating especially for Nefret), but still, ARGH.
In any case, back to Parallel 59. Very awesome read, and suitably slashy in parts, mostly from the Doctor's perspective. (Which is always nice; I'm far more used to thinking about it all from Fitz's side instead.) The Doctor is so terribly anxious to rescue Fitz throughout the entire book, and there's one particular philosophic moment for the Doctor:
"Then, the Doctor wondered how many thousand more people were staring into space even now, just like Rojin, wishing that the person they loved could somehow be returned to them.
He swigged back his beer and checked his pocket watch. Soon be with you, Fitz. It was nearly time they were off."
(p. 226)
Awwwww. Doctor! *noogies him*
I think I'm going to start rereading Shadows of Avalon again, which I *know* I've only read once. What happened to Compassion in this book was really interesting, and a good lead-in to what happens to her in that one, but this is probably the only Cornell book I didn't particularly like. (I think he did a much better job writing Five or Seven than he did Eight.) So we'll see how it goes on reread. Which will probably take weeks again since I'm only going to read it at mealtimes and am reading at least two other books at the moment as well. DORK.
Speaking of the Doctor, and beer, I finally tried a ginger beer last weekend. It was not at all what I expected--I liked it, but I think in smaller amounts than the entire bottle I drank--and I did not get drunk. Indicating that I am not a Time Lord. Alas. It's not like I was going to run into Shakespeare anyway.
ETA: Aaaaand I have discovered today that one of the washing machines I use in the apartment complex apparently will only cooperate if I bang on its lid. Maybe I should drink more ginger beer after all.
I was surprised at how good it was. I think it's always been overshadowed for me by Frontier Worlds from that era of the EDAs (the only real similarity being first person narration by Fitz, but for some reason I'd completely forgotten Fitz wrote a diary in this book, and I don't remember being impressed with it back then). It reminds me very much of the Cold War--even the way I see the secret base, the architectural design and clothing worn by the people from Parallel 59 and, well, evreything about the society--it makes me think of the 1950s and the Soviet Union, though that could just be me. But all that paranoia and fear, yes, seems very much the Cold War to me.
And the OCs are fantastic, very well drawn, particularly because you're getting everything from their (limited third person) perspective but you as the reader can still step back and go "Ohhhh, this is so not good." (I'm thinking particularly of Narkompros here, who in the end comes off more sympathetically than I would have imagined at the beginning of the book.) Dam's my favorite of them, I think; he's completely ill-fitted for his position, and he's just muddling along ignoring the fact that everything is wrong until in the end, he actually makes a decision. And then dies. Not a tragic hero, but it was not hard at all to be sympathetic with him and wish he'd gotten a better ending.
Two things that sort of bugged me about the book--the unexpected entrance of the people from Haltiel. (Seriously, WTF? Did the authors give up and say "Crap, we've gotta end the book, we're at page 250? And this is totally the way a '50s B-movie would end, let's do it!"?) It was too abrupt, it created a mass-scale tragedy that we all basically ignore, and then they just...left. I do think it's some sort of homage to Cold War apocalyptic stories, and it does fit the paranoia and fear of the story since they *did* keep coming up as a distant and unlikely threat, but in any case it didn't quite gel for me.
The other thing was the back and forth with the pov in Fitz's sections from first person to third person limited. It's something extremely hard to do, being consistent with your pov, and when you switch like that, it bothers me. (I could be being hypocritical here, but I don't think I am--when I switch pov, it's between characters; if I started writing first person with a particular character, I stick with that throughout.) I know, they were using the "writing a diary" device, which doesn't work when you're in the middle of a Situation and can't exactly have your protagonist pull out his pen and paper, but I prefer consistency.
The same thing bugged me in the Amelia Peabody Emerson mysteries by Elizabeth Peters (I know, let's jump genre completely!). In a handful of books, she interspersed letters by Nefret into the story, thereby giving Nefret's pov on events. But in one particularly important book for Nefret's character arc, the person to whom she was writing actually showed up halfway through at a singularly important moment, thereby cutting out Nefret's need to write letters and, well, effectively silencing her character for the rest of that book. Again, Peters probably had to do that so as to keep the readers in suspense and not destroy the ending (which was devastating especially for Nefret), but still, ARGH.
In any case, back to Parallel 59. Very awesome read, and suitably slashy in parts, mostly from the Doctor's perspective. (Which is always nice; I'm far more used to thinking about it all from Fitz's side instead.) The Doctor is so terribly anxious to rescue Fitz throughout the entire book, and there's one particular philosophic moment for the Doctor:
"Then, the Doctor wondered how many thousand more people were staring into space even now, just like Rojin, wishing that the person they loved could somehow be returned to them.
He swigged back his beer and checked his pocket watch. Soon be with you, Fitz. It was nearly time they were off."
(p. 226)
Awwwww. Doctor! *noogies him*
I think I'm going to start rereading Shadows of Avalon again, which I *know* I've only read once. What happened to Compassion in this book was really interesting, and a good lead-in to what happens to her in that one, but this is probably the only Cornell book I didn't particularly like. (I think he did a much better job writing Five or Seven than he did Eight.) So we'll see how it goes on reread. Which will probably take weeks again since I'm only going to read it at mealtimes and am reading at least two other books at the moment as well. DORK.
Speaking of the Doctor, and beer, I finally tried a ginger beer last weekend. It was not at all what I expected--I liked it, but I think in smaller amounts than the entire bottle I drank--and I did not get drunk. Indicating that I am not a Time Lord. Alas. It's not like I was going to run into Shakespeare anyway.
ETA: Aaaaand I have discovered today that one of the washing machines I use in the apartment complex apparently will only cooperate if I bang on its lid. Maybe I should drink more ginger beer after all.