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4/5. When [personal profile] ase found out I was writing about multiple universes for Yuletide, she asked if I'd read this. I had not, though I knew vaguely that it was about dual universes. I got it out from the library, not super planning to read it right away, and immediately fell head-first into it. I can't really even tell you why it was so compelling -- the first chapter is from the point of view of a woman, Patricia, who has worsening dementia in the year 2015, which I feel like shouldn't be compelling me to read it! And yet it was immensely compelling and I couldn't stop. I think that some other of Walton's books that I've read -- looking at you, The Just City and Lent -- have this aura of "idea-book" to me, where Walton is cheerfully working out a specific idea -- and don't get me wrong! I love those! But sometimes they can feel to me like they are all about the idea, whereas this one felt very real and moving and grounded to me, and because of that I think is my favorite Walton I've read.

The book traces her journey from a kid (born in 1926) to the point (as a young woman) where she makes a choice, whether or not to marry Mark, a rather disagreeable young man whom she nevertheless thinks she's in love with. The universe in which she does marry him and the universe in which she does not splits herself into two, and then follows the two versions of herself through their lives in alternating chapters. (They helpfully call themselves Pat and Trish -- I was amused that I independently had come up with the same necessity for having different names in the two timelines.)

I guess mild spoilers? )

I found all of this fascinating and emotional and sometimes heartbreaking, both the personal stories (and not just the differences between their lives, but the quite different people that Pat and Trish become) and the slowly accelerating changes in both universes, although to be honest I flagged a little near the end of the book where I had some trouble keeping all the children and grandchildren straight. But maybe that was thematic, because that's the point at which Pat and Trish both start getting dementia. (Not a spoiler, as we know this from the first chapter.)

spoilers )
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Okay, so now I can FINALLY post about how this fall I did the deep dive through a whoooooole bunch of L'Engle's books!

There turn out to be a lot of Kairos and Chronos books. )
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Hiiiii I'm still alive!

4/5. This book was recommended by my kid's high school guidance counselor office in one of the daily mass emails we get from her school. I suppose the subtitle of this one may as well be, "Why your kid won't get into the super-elite school you think they ought to get into," which is the not-so-subtle messaging to parents (and I think has something to do with why the counselor office recommended it). This seems to boil down to the premise that the current incentive system (both in terms of generally how the school is perceived and how specifically ranking lists perceive the school) make it such that colleges have a lot of incentive to be sought-after by as many applicants as possible (they want to be "sellers" -- the ones who decide whether they want the students -- rather than "buyers," in the author's terminology, which are the ones wooing the students), so colleges have arranged things so that in many cases there are a whole lot of kids vying for a relatively very small number of spots. In any case, the book also makes the case that there are enough "buyers" that provide a great education and might also give you merit scholarships that in most cases it's a bit silly to restrict oneself just to the "sellers," especially if you are wanting financial aid -- it's sort of like picking a brand name vs. a non-brand-name. (And, as in the brand name case: though you are rather more likely to get a better deal with the non-brand-name, sometimes there are reasons to pick the brand name, though Selingo doesn't get into that so much.)

The author follows a few kids as well as a couple of admissions committees to see how it all works (and documents how the admissions people have a hard job, as well as how they are trying to craft a class, not just looking at individual students) -- this is really quite interesting, to see how all of this works. Along the way, he also puts in some details I didn't know, like how it got started that kids get overwhelmed with glossy mailers from college (this wasn't always a thing!) and how Northeastern went way up in the rankings in the last 10 years (the bare fact of which I did know, because my cousin once removed is a sophomore at Northeastern, but I did not know that it was a concerted effort). And then there's financial aid, which is this whole problem of inequitable information as the financial aid awards aren't done until after kids have applied.

Along with the buyer/seller college distinction, he also makes a distinction between "drivers" and "passengers" -- the former indicates the kids (and, let's get real, their parents) who are very savvy about what they're looking for and what they want, and for their entire high school career have been driving, so to speak, toward the college goals they're looking towards, and start their applications on a relatively early time frame. These are the kids who know the difference between early action and early decision, and have mapped out where they want to apply early (if they do) and, strategically, why. Then there are the passengers, who just get carried along by the whole process... the good thing is that it seems like they mostly still end up okay, though perhaps not in as optimized a place as the drivers.

There's a bit in the book about sports recruiting, which I knew nothing about when I started the book, but I learned shortly after starting reading it that D's niece (who comes from a very sporty family) was sports-recruited (as a junior!) and is going to attend a rather-elite school year after next :) So it was interesting to read this bit of the book in conjunction with learning this information. Moral of the story, perhaps: if you think you might be good enough to play varsity for your sport in college, and you have pretty good grades (niece has straight A's and what was described to me as a "good enough" SAT for her future school), this might be a relatively "easy" way of getting into college. (I put it in quotes because I honestly think niece, who has been swimming since she was practically an infant, worked as hard or harder than any other high school kid I know. Her swim team had practice Thanksgiving morning!) It is, however, a really good thing for my kids that college is not in fact based on their sporting chops, because early sports training was very much not their thing. Although E is consistently not last place in cross-country, which I'm very pleased about! :)

Anyway, this was an interesting read and worth reading if you want to know more about what goes on with college admissions.
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Note: not the basis for the Nazi propaganda film of the same title! (Which I had never heard of before hearing about this book, lol, but as [personal profile] selenak pointed it out, I put this here for readers who are more culturally literate than I am.)

I found this one quite compelling. It takes place during the buildup to and the tenure of Duke Karl Alexander of Württemberg, in the 1700's, and chronicles how Karl Alexander came to power, his stint as Duke, and the aftermath. Karl Alexander was... well, [personal profile] selenak described him once in salon as a "Rokoko party boy" and yeah, that pretty much covers it.

But that's not what the book is about, that's just the background. It is actually the story of Joseph Süss Oppenheimer, the Finance Director for Karl Alexander. Süss rises very high as the "Court Jew" as Karl Alexander rises in the world, and becomes very rich and distinguished, and all without giving up his religion. The history, of course, does not end well for Süss, and the book follows that through to the end. [personal profile] selenak tells me that an influential contemporary review for the English translation called it "a composition of intrigue, corruption, tyranny, injustice, ignorance, cruelty, uncleanliness and fornication," and, um, yeah, that's not a bad description! From about 60% to 80% the book is absolutely riveting. I mean, it's interesting in the other spots too, but this is where it kicks into high gear, as everything that has come before converges into what seems like an inevitable structure. (I also assume that most of this plot structure -- the motivations, etc. -- was made up by Feuchtwanger.) In contrast, the last 20% or so is more elegiac in tone, wrapping up everything slowly to the inexorable (historical) conclusion.

Feuchtwanger himself, of course, was Jewish, and it's interesting reading this book that there are so many places where he is remorseless in depicting anti-Semitism, in a way that is quite uncomfortable to read sometimes. It's not that he paints the anti-Semites as horrible cruel people; it's that they are ordinary people, sometimes quite nice, who do horrible cruel things, often unthinkingly, but also often in a way where fears and stresses override the rational and humanistic parts of their minds.

The style is interesting. I kept thinking that stylistically it reminded me of a fairy tale -- something like Hans Christian Andersen, where there is something of a mannered distance between the reader and the people on the page, while still being descriptive and compelling. It also had that fairy-tale-ish quality of making things seem beautiful in an almost dreamlike way sometimes.

Süss is definitely a hero, or anti-hero? in the true Feuchtwanger mold; he's handsome, popular with the ladies, intelligent, and significantly flawed, with the flaws often being part and parcel of his virtues as well -- he does not convert to Christianity, and to be sure there is a (somewhat murky) element of religious piety in that, but that's depicted as much less of his conscious motivation than an overwhelming pride that he can rise so high without converting, that he is one of of a kind and not just another rich Christian.

The book is of course (given its English title) also extremely concerned with power -- what it means that Karl Alexander has power both over his country (one of the major plot threads is about how he seeks to gain autocratic powers over Württemberg) and his Jew (he calls Süss that a couple of times). And what power does Süss have, given the above, but also given the fabulous wealth that he has made from being Karl Alexander's Court Jew, which he uses more than once to drive Karl Alexander in the way he wishes him to go? But also, you know, not to go all Ayn Rand but she did actually have something of a point when she said that going after power is living second-hand through others and not living on one's own terms. Which relates to the arc -- I hesitate to call it a redemption arc, but it's not exactly not that -- that Süss goes through, when that power and riches are inevitably torn from him. There is a lot going on!

I still have yet to read a Feuchtwanger where the young child of the main character (or, in one case, the not-so-young child-proxy of the main character) did not die super depressingly.

I think the Joseph trilogy is still my favorite Feuchtwanger because Joseph is such a WTF character, but I felt like of the Feuchtwangers I've read so far (Joseph trilogy, Oppermanns, Proud Destiny, and now Jud Süß) this one is the one I was the most impressed by. I can totally see how it became a best seller!
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Doc put a new splint on so let's experiment with posting (and maybe even commenting?) a bit. Will still not be posting/commenting as usual for at least the next month, but Hugo deadline is tomorrow, so... here are my novel/novella picks in order.

Novel:
-Some Desperate Glory (but you all knew that)
-Saint of Bright Doors (I had issues with it but it was doing interesting things, which I value for Hugo voting)
-Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi
-Translation State
-Witch King (did not manage to finish)
-Starter Villain (did not manage to start, but I'm sure it's fine)

Novella:
-Mammoths at the Gates (which I loved, and which moved me the most, after not particularly gelling with the other Singing Hills novellas after the first)
-Seeds of Mercury (I'm inclined to rate the Chinese nominees higher, and I thought this one was interesting)
-Rose/House (intriguing)
-Mimicking of Known Successes (*)
-Thornhedge (enjoyed)
-Life Does Not Allow Us to Meet (I kind of feel like I could have summed this up in 3 sentences and saved myself the trouble of reading it)

(*) I thought it was fine in general, but I discovered while reading it that while I really like having spectrum-coded characters as the POV character, I intensely dislike having that character as the love interest (or at least did in this case) because I can see how annoying one can be and I do not like feeling seen like that! :)
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The Saint of Bright Doors (Vajra Chandrasekera)

Fetter, raised as a child to kill his father, escapes his rural cult upbringing to live in the big city... but his past haunts him in more ways than one.

...I feel like that is a terrible way of describing this book. Perhaps if I say: it has the sensibility to me of a magical realism book, set in a world that has a lot in common with ours (email! committees!) but is not quite ours (devils, the mysterious bright doors of the title), or perhaps is not yet ours -- is that any better a description? Maybe not. Anyway, I thought it was trying to play with some interesting ideas and themes and I like seeing that kind of thing in the Hugos. On the other hand, I kept putting it down and not feeling any kind of impetus whatsoever to pick it up again. I felt rather as if there were short bursts of Important Plot Things Being Revealed interspersed with long passages where maybe something happened but it was not compelling or entirely comprehensible (sometimes because it was waiting for the next flash of lightning of Plot Things Being Revealed). Even something like 85% through (at which point you usually don't get any sense out of me until I finish the entire book), I ignored it for an entire day and on seeing my Kindle the next day was like, "oh, right, I haven't finished that book yet." Which I feel speaks to some fundamental problem with being able to sustain being compelling, or at least being compelling to me (it could well be a me problem).

The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi (Shannon Chakraborty)

The title is basically what it's about, the adventures of the formerly-ex-pirate Amina al-Sirafi. She is hired/blackmailed into looking for her ex-crew-member's daughter, who studies the occult and may be mixed up in helping a Frank [European] get access to a powerful magical artifact. She starts gathering her old crew to help her in her quest, and they all start having adventures...

I liked it, it was easy to read, and I totally appreciated that the main character was a middle-aged mom (and most of the supporting characters were middle-aged as well, for that matter). I also appreciated its taking place in the Muslim world, and occasionally had a rather embarrassing epiphany, like realizing that I'd actually never really thought about the Crusades from the Muslim viewpoint. I don't think this was meant to be a super profound book and I think that's OK; sometimes you want a rollicking adventure that makes you think differently about some things, and this fit that well.
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Okay, so, I didn't even try to write anything coherent about this book. Instead I had the idea to take quasi-real-time notes. I wasn't aware of this at the time, but of course it's somewhat thematic that I took notes during the actual events instead of writing it up afterwards as I did the other books... and also thematic that I was taking these notes because I was envisioning a dialogue with you, dear readers, but could not have that dialogue until I had finished the book (since the only other person I know who was reading this semi-concurrently, [personal profile] hidden_variable, had already finished reading it). (Also thematic that I often had to go back and revisit/edit my notes :P ) Notes: )

I'm very impressed by this whole series -- I really can't remember the last time I read a series that both was so thoughtful in its worldbuilding and so complete in the way it worked things out. With all these notes, I think it's less than half of the things I would have liked to say/talk about (if I'd really been taking real and constant live notes), there was so much! (I never even said anything about Carlyle, love them!)

I find it a series I find more impressive than lovable. I don't think that's an insult in any way, mind you: it's clearly setting out to do things in a way that is meant to engage me cerebrally rather than aiming directly at my tropes, for example. But wow there's a lot there and a lot to think about and I'm glad I read them.
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This book is about a nostalgic kid's TV show that... somehow... everyone remembers watching as a kid... but no one can actually find any information about it online or anywhere. (One of my favorite parts of the book are the found documents that sometimes arise after chapter breaks: a blog post or a wikipedia post or even once the notes of a fanfic!) The six kids who were featured on the show, now grown-ups, are having a "cast reunion."

The POV character, Val, finds out that she was one of the six kids, but she doesn't remember anything about it. Doesn't remember being on the show, doesn't remember what it was like, barely remembers the other kids -- only remembers a vast sense of guilt and shame, and knows that her dad hid both of them away for decades, but she doesn't remember why.

About midway through the book, the clue dropped for me. The clue was one of the grown-up kids, Jenny, saying, "This is the way to live, you know? In the world, not of the world." Thematic meanderings, no explicit spoilers. )


Spoilers for the end
Something I really liked about the ending is that it's been a long-standing complaint of mine that while it's a reasonably common trope of a main character ascending to become the wise mentor figure, that character is almost always male, ugh. Not this time, yeah!
(I also thought the fakeout, where Isaac becomes Mister Magic, was well done -- I was all "okay..." which quickly became "wait, what?" and "but...!")


It's a very fast and almost breezy read in style (if not not in content) -- it reads like YA, though the concerns of the characters, who are all grown-ups now, are adult.
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In the Imperial Radch universe, Enae's life gets upturned from sie's previous circumscribed existence as sie is given the task to track down someone who has been missing for a couple of hundred years; at the same time, Reet struggles with never fitting in, and Qven grows up in a milieu that is alien to a human POV.

So for some reason, the only part of this I knew before starting was a little bit of Enae's opening dilemma. It was a much more complex and fascinating book than my priors made it sound! Which I should expect from Leckie; I love about her work that it always has a whole lot of threads running through it.

It's the sort of book where there are so many things I could talk about, but it turns out that I really only want to talk about a couple of things enough to type it out:

a) I really really like alien books from the POV of the alien, which probably says something about me, but anyway, I really like the idea that things look very different from the alien's POV and that they might have very different motivations and imperatives than a human in many ways. (This is something I loved about the Ancillary books.) This book kind of did that superficially -- Qven's upbringing is certainly very, very different than a human's and I enjoyed reading that (unsurprisingly, I especially enjoyed reading Qven's viewpoints about human scripts) -- but as the book goes on, I feel like it becomes clear that e's upbringing is just flat abusive and there's just nothing good or acceptable about it, which makes it much less interesting to me.

b) There is one character in the book that was absolutely my favorite -- who does try to do the right thing to the extent they are capable of, for no other reason than that they feel it's the right thing, as they are likely to not have gotten any reward or happy ending from it. I am speaking, of course, of Spoilers. )

I'm really glad this was Hugo homework, because like everything I've read by Leckie it was very worth reading. I still prefer Some Desperate Glory for the Hugo because it played to all my tropes, engaged even more with questions that really interest me, and blew my mind in ways that TS didn't, but TS would be a worthy Hugo winner, and I could totally see others preferring it to SDG.
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So I read The Will to Battle, the third Terra Ignota book, on the way to and from IL on this last trip. I continue to be more and more impressed with these books as they go on -- I think they may be an acquired taste to a certain extent, and also it was hard to appreciate what Palmer is trying to do in the depth of, say, only one book (which is really itself only half a book). That being said, there was a part in the middle where I had the thought that I really wanted to read this and knew I would like it, but at the same time I also rather wished I had already read it and was looking back at all the things I'd found out. (I don't remember ever thinking this about a book before.) By the time I was at the end, I had forgotten all those thoughts -- there was certainly a lot of action at the end.

Interestingly, I don't think I liked many characters in this book, but I didn't even think about that until the end -- I think Mycroft has grown on me a lot (as I was told might happen!) which helped a lot, but more importantly this is the kind of book where the worldbuilding (which I did like a lot!) is basically the most important character.

Various random and spoilery thoughts:Read more... )

More random thinking about Hives: Gordian continues to be the Hive I feel I have the most natural affinity for, by far (it was also the one I ended up with when I took the Hive quiz after reading book 2). Faust was my fave in this book (the bit where they tell Carlyle to look at 48 pictures of subjects eating bananas made me laugh out loud), and I think I'd get along better with them than with most people in this book (while other people I know, like my sister, would find them entirely irritating). Utopia continues to be the Hive I'm most intrigued by (and, like, I sort of wish I were the kind of person that could sacrifice complacency, but I'm definitely not) and I still want to know what their deal is! (I'll be reading the fourth book soon...) It also occurred to me that if I had to sort my actual real-life self, I would probably be in the Cousins Hive, not least (though not wholly) because my church is... in very many ways basically a big ol' Cousins Hive, and it's the biggest RL source of community and (voluntary non-work) responsibility that I have.

I've got the fourth book on hold from the library and probably will dive right into it as soon as it gets here!
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Middle-grade graphic novel about eleven-year-old Avery Lee, one of seven children, as she navigates sibling conflicts (she really wants her own room, but instead her older brother gets his own room and her baby brother moves into the room she already shares with her sister), friendships (one of her best friends seems to be drifting away a bit), and family conflicts (there is the possibility they might move, which she really doesn't want to do). My 9-year-old niece brought this home from the book fair while we were visiting them, and I picked it up.

I really loved this book. I only had the one sibling, but I know a lot of people who have quite a few kids in their families, and this rang true to me in terms of both the good and the bad of having a large family. Avery is a realistic and sweet kid -- she gets into fights with her big brother where both of them are at fault and exchange harsh words (and apologize later), she loves art and wants her own room so that she can do her art without her younger siblings getting into it, she helps out her younger siblings and gets exasperated with them in equal measure.

Also, it's not made a big deal of (I don't think it's ever stated explicitly), but the Lees are Korean-American. And also the mom is in the process of becoming the major breadwinner (it's her job search that is driving the plot about the possible move) but it's also not a big deal, which I also loved.

I also read Allergic by the same authors because my niece happened to have that one around too, which I liked a lot as well but not as much as Squished, which I thought was richer both in story and art.
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[personal profile] rachelmanija and I have a whole system now when a new Catriona book comes out: we are extremely excited and promise that we'll read it together ASAP, and then inevitably one of us is busy and the other one is busy and then Yuletide happens and then someone else has checked it out of the library and... BUT the stars finally aligned and we read it together during chat! (Actually kind of a while ago, but I'm really behind in book writeups.)

This is a kind of amazing book. First of all, a novel's worth of twists and turns is crammed into the first third of the book! (Which is largely its own self-contained novella, though it of course also sets up the rest of the book.) Honestly, the first third would have been a perfectly good story all by itself for any other author, but then the rest of it is -- well, both rachel and I kept chatting each other with connections we'd noticed and of course we were trying to figure out what was going on the whole time, and as the book went on we started chatting things like, "This is BONKERS!" and "WTF is all this?!" And a few pages left to go I was still like, "...how is she going to make everything work?" And then we got to the end and started teasing apart the strands of, wait a second, that means this, and this makes sense of that part... it was a wild ride!

I don't know that this is my favorite Ward -- I think Little Eve is still my favorite because I loved Eve and Christopher Black and how they related to each other so much, whereas I didn't feel nearly as strongly about these characters or their relations with each other (and in fact almost all of the characters are rather unlikeable -- one of them ends up being likeable, actually, but because of the way the book is structured it sort of becomes clear very late in the game). But I think it is the Ward book that I am most impressed by, because pulling that whole thing off really just clearly took so much skill.


Spoilers: discussing the end
The implications of the very end are so fascinating. How does it work for them to be in the book? How does Wilder communicate via typewriter?? The communication clearly implies he has some sort of independent agency; he's not just a character, once he's in the book. Also, I felt so bad for Wilder: he was much nicer than Sky(e) thought he was, and I like to think that in the AU where he'd actually had his future (in the outside world) that it would have turned out much better than Skye had imagined. (And what happens if Pearl writes a book with that AU?)


Also, there is a completely gratuitous severed finger in this book, and I am convinced she put it in specifically for our bingo board :PP (Oh, I suppose I should do content notes. Umm, there's a serial murder/murderer involved, and some non-explicit descriptions of same, and a very creepy doll made out of hair. Also at least one death occurring on stage. I don't think there was actually much animal harm in this book, surprisingly!)
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From [personal profile] selenak. This is a book that plays with the line between biography and historical fiction: it quotes extensively from letters and other primary sources, but does not really cite the sources, and also sometimes talks about what characters were thinking when there doesn't seem to be any source at all, in language that is more flowing and lyrical than I usually expect from a biography.

It is about the German writer Heinrich Mann (the brother of the writer Thomas Mann, who, sorry Heinrich, may be more familiar) and his wife Nelly Kroeger-Mann, whom I got interested in when [personal profile] selenak had me watch Youtube clips of Alec Guiness playing Heinrich Mann in Christopher Hampton's play Tales from Hollywood. (The links to the clips are in the second paragraph.) It's also about the milieu of the years 1934-1944 as approached from the viewpoint of (primarily but not exclusively) the other German authors who had to leave Germany and the people around them: Heinrich's brother Thomas, Bertolt Brecht, and others, whose thoughts and letters and words paint a picture of what they were all going through and what all of this must have been like. Also, very weirdly, Virginia Woolf is one of the people who shows up in the prose on a regular basis; this is weird because as far as I can tell, she had nothing to do with any of these other people (I guess the author speculates they might have crossed paths once), and every time she showed up I was like "...what is she doing here??"

Anyway -- it's a good book and it really brings home how jarring and difficult this emigration experience must have been for all of these displaced people. (I'm also rereading The Oppermanns right now, which as a fictional portrait of that same 1933-1934 era through a mostly-non-intellectual-character lens is an interesting point-counterpoint.) Nelly Kroeger-Mann eventually committed suicide, but reading their letters and the kinds of things they had to go through, I almost found it more surprising that more of them didn't think about it more. (Except for Thomas Mann, who definitely comes across a bit as someone who had a charmed life and could be a jerk about it, too, ha.) I thought the book was well worth reading, and in many places quite beautiful.

[personal profile] selenak's less incoherent review is here.
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A. really likes me to read books that he enjoyed, and will keep gently pushing until I do (including adorably setting up a little reading nook for me with a pillow and book holder), so along with many Diary of a Wimpy Kid books, I have now read the first Keeper of the Lost Cities books (and am maybe a quarter of the way through the second one).

I first became aware of these books maybe five years ago, when D's niece told me how much she loved them (which then led to a rather distressing conversation with D's sister in which she said she didn't see the point of fantasy -- I need hardly say that D does not share this sentiment -- and in which she was probably not expecting my passionate defense of fantasy; to be fair to her, she has not objected to my giving her daughters fantasy books for Christmas almost every year since then). I read the first chapter and could see the appeal. Sophie, the main/POV character, is a 12-year-old blonde genius with a photographic memory who can read minds; she has never quite fit in with either her family or her world. In that first chapter, she meets a mysterious and strangely attractive boy who reveals to her that she is not human, but an elf!!

Yes, it is basically every wish-fulfillment and Special Snowflake trope you could hope for, all rolled into one; I can see why it has such appeal for the middle-school age group (which this is solidly aimed towards). I stopped reading there. When E was in sixth grade these books swept over her class like wildfire, and even E. who is impervious to her peers tried them out and liked them; however, because E. does not care at all whether I read the books she likes or not, I didn't read more until A. wanted me to.

In subsequent chapters, Sophie is taken to live in the elven cities (it's not entirely clear to me or to my kids where these cities are... one of them is Atlantis but others seem to be sort of... on Earth but I guess hidden really really well or in a pocket dimension or something??) which feature the beautiful, super-intelligent, magical elves who all wear fancy clothes all the time, eat super delicious food all the time, and also where there are dinosaurs and other such exciting creatures. Sophie, of course, is Super Special even within elven society; her telepathy is so strong they've never seen the like before. I think my favorite part is the bit where Sophie has brown eyes, but it turns out that this is exotic in elven society, where everyone has blue eyes. (I note that the author appears to have brown eyes.) Anyway, she then goes to elven school ("Foxfire") where she takes classes, attempts to catch up to many years of living with humans instead of other elves, and makes friends with the other elven students, all while trying to figure out her mysterious backstory that other adult characters will allude to without actually telling her things except when she manages to figure out enough stuff to confront them.

(If this is giving you super Harry Potter vibes, well... yeah, I was getting those too.)

Elven society appears to be extremely classist. There are "nobles": whether you are noble seems to hinge on a) whether you can get into Foxfire, the school that trains nobles; b) whether you have a Special Ability (not all elves do; Sophie, of course, turns out later to have more than one); c) whether you can pass all your Foxfire classes. If you aren't noble, you have significantly less status, you can't be in the government and such, and other noble elves will be mean to you about it. Also, if your parents are a "bad match" (it has not yet been explained what that means), that also lowers your status dramatically. So maybe eugenics in there too? I don't know whether this will be followed up on or whether we're supposed to conclude from the fancy clothes and delicious food that everything is A-OK with the way the society is structured, though I suspect the latter. (There are certainly hints, and eventually more than hints, that the society is not entirely stable, although I don't think the instability has to do with the rampant classicism. Maybe I will be proved wrong in subsequent books, though.)

The target audience is definitely middle school, and an adult might, er, have other opinions (about elven society, say; or the parallels to HP) than the ones a middle schooler might have. But I will say that Messenger does write compellingly, and it wasn't nearly as much as a slog as I was fearing. Which is good because there are, like, 9 of these (so far), and I think A. wants me to read them all.
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From [personal profile] selenak. Ted Hughes doing a poetic translation of Ovid. This was an interesting read and I'm really glad to have read it. I was familiar with most of the stories (though there were a couple that were new to me) from D'Aulaire and Edith Hamilton and so on, but it's been a while since I have thought much at all about Greek/Roman mythology.

I was struck, on reading these, how differently the people/gods in these stories think about what is right or what is fair. Might seems to make right, and there is often something of a lack of judgment, or at least certainly authorial commentary, of those who engage in what we'd call harassment or abuse or assault. For example, Peleus rapes Thetis -- now that was a story that got left out of my kid-friendly D'Aulaire! -- at Zeus's command, so that the prophecy of "son greater than his father" is neutralized, with no one registered as protesting all that much, including Thetis herself. Though at the same time there is always the knowledge that if someone more powerful or more cunning decides to take revenge (e.g. Apollo and Artemis taking revenge on Niobe), then, well, sucks to be you, even if what they do is not at all proportional to what you did.

For a couple of them I went back to look at the original Ovid. It was striking to me how closely Hughes followed the original, while still using evocative language that was his own.

[personal profile] selenak has an excellent post on this book, which I highly recommend, where she quotes various bits, including one comparing translations and also including a couple of quotes where Hughes tantalizingly adds a bit to Ovid.
cahn: (Default)
4/5. Okay, let's get back to books. I've had very mixed luck with Monette/Addison, but I loved this. Apparently what I really wanted her to write was a series of linked short stories about a long-suffering, gloomy, extremely introverted and shy museum curator who occasionally encounters eldritch horrors, with a strain of homoeroticism that is sometimes very heavily subtextual and sometimes just plain textual??

Also, poor Kyle Murchison Booth cannot catch a break (well, except for that one guy Ratcliffe who is actually nice to him), partially because his early life was legit horrible (as you might expect of a Lovecraftian Henry Jamesian narrator) and partially because he basically always puts the most negative spin possible on everything (again... as you might expect). I think... I just want a fix-it now where there are just tiny slivers of hope for him! (Okay, I want a particular fix-it where he realizes his mom actually did love him and her mental health issues were not a reflection of her lack of love for him, omg. The stories are set in an era where it makes sense that he would come to the conclusions he does, but, argh!)

There is apparently also another very-hard-to-find collection of Booth stories which [personal profile] rushthatspeaks talks about here. I have no access to this, but I was able to find links to three out of four of the stories, and the fourth one is in another collection:
The Yellow Dressing-Gown
The Replacement
White Charles
The World Without Sleep -- in the anthology Somewhere Beneath Those Waves, which I have not read yet.

The three additional stories that I have read I also liked!

I read this so that I could read [personal profile] cenozoicsynapsid's Yuletide fic, an epistolary murder mystery starring Booth's co-worker Claudia Coburn, which is obviously extremely relevant to my interests, and of course the story is wonderful!
cahn: (Default)
I have read Seven Surrenders!

I am glad that [personal profile] hamsterwoman mentioned in her Terra Ignota post that SS was really meant as the second half of Too Like the Lightning, because it really was. It's like TLtL carefully set up a lot of dominos, and SS... knocks them all down. It's pretty amazing to watch (well, read) and I'm glad I read it even though I suffered a lot from not reading the first one carefully enough (though I think if I'd read it as carefully as I needed to in order to catch everything, I'd never have finished, so it's just as well). Very curious as to what I'll think on a reread; this seems like the kind of series that well rewards rereads.

I don't have much really to say about it as a whole except "whoa, that ALL HAPPENED" but I have a few random thoughts:
-I feel like the prose is smoother and less, idk, irritating than I found the first book. Some of the mannerisms that annoyed me in the first book are toned down a lot in this one, like, Mycroft spends significantly less time explaining random Enlightenment stuff and praising Voltaire, and there are fewer times where he feels that, for example, he needs to have a literal conversation with the reader from his future. (Also, Émilie du Châtelet is namechecked in the acknowledgements, nice!)

-There was one point where Cornel MASON is speaking where I said to myself, "Palmer has read John M. Ford!" Now, I know she's friends with Jo Walton, and Walton has read JMF, so I'm not saying this in a vacuum either... but... yeah, I'd be shocked if she hadn't.

-After this book Utopia has now become my favorite problematic Hive, in the sense that I don't want to be a Utopian at all (it sounds completely exhausting!) but I am so intrigued by everything they do: their particular mode of surrender when confronted with the events of SS, their planning 150 years in the future (like... seriously?? modeling is clearly MUCH better in the future, lol!), their constant visor tagging of "how things could be better"... I would super like to know what's up with them. (The title of the fourth book makes me believe that we will find out more...)

Spoilers:
-BRIDGER! Gosh, poor kid. (I think I cared about him more than anyone else, as the only character who a) wasn't complicit in about five different plots at once and b) wasn't literally a god, even if he had godlike powers.) He even kind of says that he's fulfilled his element of the plot and now he's gonna off himself :(
(Mycroft, Bridger is not the protagonist as you said in TLtL, much as you would have liked him to be. He is the plot device :P Unless there's more about him later I don't know about :PP I mean, I guess we've had one resurrection already, why not two?)

There were two spoilery places where I was like, really?

-First: when Heloise talks about how they are super missing something in their society by not recognizing the old cultural constructions of gender, like the part where women are nurturing and men are manly, and they need to have a conversation about that. She says "Back when half the race identified as feminine it meant that half the race was devoted in some way to nurturing, peace, and charity, and we never developed a substitute for that."

I've read this bit about ten times now, trying to articulate what I disagree with, and after about my tenth read I guess... I don't disagree with most of what Heloise says. (For what it's worth, it seems pretty clear to me that Palmer meant to present this in an intentionally shocking way that would inspire disagreement -- because I also think it's the process of having the argument that Palmer is interested in.) I can see a lot of her points: maybe in a genderless world you don't have a world where half of everyone is devoted to nurturing, peace, and charity (and I do get her point that culturally that's sort of the effect of gender, and I can definitely see that if you got rid of gender all at once that the default might tend to be sort of a leaning-masculine sort of persona and not a leaning-feminine one), and maybe that's a problem, and maybe you DO need something to bolster that.

I think my point of remaining disagreement is that Heloise says things like "...the words are taboo so no one dares admit [the Cousins are "feminine"], and it feels like the Hive is weak and teetering. Of course it's teetering! The Masons would teeter if we banned the word 'Empire' and Gordian if we banned the word 'psyche'." I... don't really think this is how people and language work? People would come up with new words for the same concept. :P

Also, I feel like this ties into my wondering about the educational system and raising kids. Idk, I think either you have enough people who are "nurturing" that you are able to raise and educate the next generation, and then they also have role models who (one hopes??) teach them to be nurturing... or you don't? how does this society propagate itself at all if no one is nurturing enough to actually raise kids??

Heloise says, "Think of the Set-Set riots. How many fewer people might have died if the Cousins had felt free to say overtly why they were really upset? That their motherly feelings judged it inhumane to do such things to children. Without that vocabulary, the real cause of the conflict couldn't even be discussed!" I... do not agree with this AT ALL. First, any parent might think it inhumane to do Thing X to children. Also, there's another issue in there about "sanctity" of humanity and what we might think is humane vs inhumane that I think overlaps with this but which should be disentangled a bit, and which I think belongs more on the axis of conservative-liberal, if anything, than male-female.

Anyway, kudos to Palmer for making me so annoyed that I had to reread Heloise's speech several times to articulate the things I actually did disagree with, versus the things I thought Heloise was saying but that she actually isn't (for example, she never said that she thinks gender is necessary or that she thinks there aren't other ways of structuring society without it, but my first draft of this post assumed she did).

-Second: Madame being all "so, I did the amazing educational thing of raising a child with all philosophies/languages/beliefs at once and it produced Enlightened Man, which turned out to be a god." (Paraphrased, of course.) It's really unclear whether the narrative a) expects you to take this at face value b) expects you to believe that Madame's education made it possible for the god to appear in J.E.D.D. Mason, or c) is just something Madame is saying that is her belief but is actually not even kind of relevant to the god appearing and that we're not supposed to take at all seriously. I think (b). (I would prefer to think (c) but in that case I don't see any Doylistic reason why she's saying it to begin with.) In any case, this is the kind of thing where I honestly think Madame is deluded.

Because a) everything you teach is a choice. I don't care if you are being so very careful about giving all philosophies equal time or whatever, by teaching anything you are making choices about what you present and how you present it, that is just the way of things b) anyone, anywhere, who has ever been around kids KNOWS that kids literally have minds of their own and no matter how you construct their education, they are gonna come out with things that you didn't intend and that you didn't want to teach them (*) -- Madame thinks she's teaching disregard for social values by showing Jehovah "the people our world respects most, emperors and kings... fucking like animals," but honestly a kid is just as likely to get out of it something super unintended and possibly untrue, like "fucking is sacred" or, idk, "maybe only kings fuck, peasants reproduce via parthogenesis." Kids can come up with super weird things!
c) kids learn A LOT from other kids, and Madame said she could only do this once, so basically in order to run her experiment J.E.D.D. must have been isolated from any other children while he was growing up for this to work (because those children would have wrecked the experiment by being not steeped in this "all-philosophies" education). In fact, he must have been isolated from any other people who were not part of Madame's educational program. Which is NOT OKAY. Even Ferdinand of Parma was able to run away and have lower-class friends! Maybe the god was attracted to this poor kid because he was the loneliest kid in the world!

(*) All this makes me think of Ferdinand of Parma, or at least did once [personal profile] mildred_of_midgard reminded me what his name was, lol. To be fair childhood education has advanced a lot since then! Probably Madame did not beat her child! But... this is the kind of thing that can happen in real life in the Enlightenment Madame is so proud of, Diderot and all, when the kid doesn't end up thinking about things the way you want them to.


Anyway, I was satisfied by this one, and the question now is whether I will have to dive in to the next book (because I want to know what happens next!) or whether I will have to take a break first (because these books are also hard going!)
cahn: (Default)
I had tried this back in 2016 when it came out (having read Palmer's blog on occasion) and got twenty percent in before grinding to a halt. I knew that a lot of what I couldn't deal with was the narrator Mycroft's voice, and when [personal profile] hamsterwoman posted about her Terra Ignota Yuletide gift, I thought, hmm, you know, I've always intended to try this out again, and now that I have several years of salon (working on year 5!) and a LOT more reading of Enlightenment sources under my belt... Also, I was spoiled for what Mycroft Canner had done
that is, that he was a serial murderer, though I did not know details
which helped me not throw the book across the room when I got to that part :)

And I finished it this time! It did indeed make it rather easier that I now have a lot more experience with the Enlightenment and Enlightenment prose. (Also, I laughed when a salon showed up in the book, although sadly in this salon there was a lot less discussion of historical/literary/scientific ideas (there was a little) and a lot more sex.) I am also now much more used to reading primary documents without being the target audience and therefore not having the applicable context and only being given that later either by reading more or by [personal profile] selenak and [personal profile] mildred_of_midgard -- which is somewhat similar to the experience of reading this book, in that in-character-Mycroft is writing for an audience that is again Not Me but in the future. It's neat that Palmer is able to structure it that way.

I think it's an interesting book! I'm not going to talk about the gender stuff (it's interesting to see that eight years after publication it doesn't seem all that shocking or confusing, whereas I remember it being rather more so on first reading). The worldbuilding is interesting. I was definitely lost for most (maybe all) of the book. I was also warned that the book would end without tying up everything (though there's one very interesting revelation that does get made!) as it's really supposed to be half a book, which was good to know and I will follow up with the next half.

Ruminations on the concept of the bash', the ending, and Voltaire. No spoilers visible after clicking on this; ending spoilers under a separate details cut. )

Anyway, I very much enjoyed that the book made me think about things, I am definitely going to read the second book, and then we'll see whether I get more or less into the series!
cahn: (Default)
[personal profile] troisoiseaux recced these two books and... then I read them right through, because both of them were quite compelling! They also make a good pair to chew on -- they're both concerned with journeys through life that have a large component involving high school/college during the 1990's.

I Have Some Questions for You (Makkai) 3+/5. This was a book that was doing a lot of things and by and large doing them well, although it didn't necessarily offer answers to everything (rightly so, since some of the questions it asked don't have good answers).

It's a book narrated by a podcaster, Bodie, who returns for a visit (in the 2018-ish time frame) to her old prep school, Granby, to teach a two-week mini-class in podcasting (and another in film studies, but that one is more ambience-related than plot-related). One of the students in the class decides to make a podcast regarding the girl who was killed while the podcaster was in school there.

Fictionalized true crime in the age of MeToo. )

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow (Zevin) 3+/5. Follows two friends and professional (platonic) partners, Sam and Sadie, through adulthood (and childhood, mostly through flashbacks), making video games together, hurting each other, and being there for each other. There is also a major spoiler/content warning that I was vaguely warned for beforehand and which I'm glad I was vaguely spoiled for.
The most important character who's not the two friends gets killed, awfully, in a shooting, about 2/3 of the way through the book.


I found this more enjoyable and less profound than the Makkai. )

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