Aug 26 2017

The Light Fantastic (Discworld, #2; Rincewind #2) by Terry Pratchett

I was too busy to do a proper review of the first in the series once I’d finished reading, so this covers both, sorry not sorry.

With the help of my local libraries, I’ve decided to read all the Discworld books that I haven’t yet attempted in order. I actually picked up The Color Of Magic ages ago but found the beginning, for whatever reason, too frivolous for my mood at the time (so wound up reading Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange instead, which was definitely not the better choice.) But the passing of years before I came back to these books was probably for the best, as at this point in my life, I’m rather sick of authors who take themselves too seriously, and can better appreciate Terry Pratchett’s skill and humor. I was actually prepared for TCoM to be terrible, and was ready to forgive it in sight of how excellent Small Gods and Nation and many others after have been: after all, I’ve already read the exceedingly awful Interesting Times and still feel the worth of his books overall outweigh the perishing rare duds. So I was extremely happy to find that not only was TCoM not awful but that it did lay a decent groundwork for what was to happen next here in The Light Fantastic.

I really enjoyed this book, as well, and probably more than TCoM. It builds keenly off of the foundation of the first book, taking all those loose fantastic elements and making for a sharp-witted, bitingly observed novel of wit and mostly good humor. I did very much like Mr Pratchett’s criticism of order for its own sake, and how that desire for order when combined with fear can make monsters out of everyday people. And, of course, it was pretty amazing to see how outstandingly feminist this book is. Is it weird for me to feel that way about a book written in 1986, as if that year was somehow all that distant in time? Perhaps it feels revolutionary because he was a male mainstream fantasy writer, and some thirty years on, the battle over whether women have and should have autonomy and representation in that particular field still rages. It’s nice to be reminded that we have support in his legacy now, and perhaps allies in fellow fans, especially whilst living under this miserable American administration.

And now I’m sad not only because of politics but because Terry Pratchett was a great man who wrote great books, and his passing was a loss for all thoughtful readers. RIP, Sir Terry.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2017/08/26/the-light-fantastic-discworld-2-rincewind-2-by-terry-pratchett/

Aug 19 2017

Ms. Marvel, Vol. 2: Generation Why by G. Willow Wilson & Adrian Alphona

WOLVERINE, ERMAHGERD!!!

Look, I love what Hugh Jackman has done with the character but in all fairness, there haven’t been enough possibly-drunk-Wolverine lying in a frustrated fury on the road moments (tho the one did make my fangirl heart overflow with joy) in comparison with the big, bad heart-throb moments. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve been crushing on Wolverine since waaaaaay back when he was just an also-ran for Jean Grey’s affections (I started reading comics in the 80s) but the Wolverine I know and adore is the caustic, reckless guy who’ll throw himself in front of danger to save a kid but would 100% prefer to slink off and have a beer after that rather than hang out with said kid, whom he’ll desperately point in the direction of someone with a better grasp of adulting and/or being a role model instead.

And ooooooooh, that Wolverine is in full effect here in this volume. Okay, it’s unfair to the regular cast to be all hearts and giggles over a guest star (and Kamala is in fine fettle here herself, proving to be more than just a sidekick to Wolvie, and then, oh my stars, that wonderful speech she gives those teenagers later on!) but it’s been so long since I’ve read a comic that used its guests (including Lockjaw!) so perfectly! Mad props to the creative team for continuing to write a book that is smart, funny and highly topical. I especially loved the guest art on the Wolverine issue (tho am too lazy to look up who exactly that was: great stuff tho.) I’m so very much looking forward to more.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2017/08/19/ms-marvel-vol-2-generation-why-by-g-willow-wilson-adrian-alphona/

Aug 17 2017

The Way of Kings (The Stormlight Archive #1) by Brandon Sanderson

You can read the review of my first read-through here

It’s weird re-reading books, what you remember and what you don’t. I remembered very vividly the biology and quantum physics of The Way Of Kings, as well as that brutal final battle that had me crying for forty pages straight. I remembered Syl but she loomed much larger in my recollection than she did here, and I’d completely forgotten what kind of spren she actually was. Even more shamefully, I’d completely forgotten who the big bad behind Szeth’s hiring was, as well as the circumstances leading up to said battle, as well as the price Dalinar paid in the end. Holy shitballs, that was a lot of important information to forget! Very glad I got a chance to refresh my memory ahead of finally reading Words Of Radiance and, hopefully, Oathbringer (insert whinging regarding all the obligatory reading that suddenly leapt out at me after finishing TWoK. #FirstWorldProblems)

I think the most surprising thing for me on re-reading this complex, wonderful book is how things have shifted in importance since the last time I read it. I’d come off a string of reading Barry Stus the last time, so was quick to deride some of Kaladin’s struggles as being the same: I didn’t feel that urge at all this time. I’d been in the middle of a complicated intellectual/emotional relationship at the time, so the Syl-Kaladin connection resonated more deeply with me. Now that I’m an older mother of three, the Kaladin-Tien relationship hit much harder, as did Navani’s role in the book. I also didn’t find the culmination of the Shallan-Kabsal relationship to be as predictable as I apparently had the last time. And after reading the disaster that was Steven Erikson’s Gardens Of The Moon, I so very much more appreciated the thought and emotion put into this multi-layered, intelligently executed fantasy novel.

But above all, I realized that the narrative threads, whether they be Kaladin, Shallan, Dalinar or Szeth’s, all sang the same true thing: that perseverance is important, and as long as there’s life, there’s hope. My best friend is purportedly a fast reader but still hasn’t finished it, and I’d been looking forward to his insights to help me write my own review here. I think this is enough for now tho. Who knows, I might incorporate his thoughts into the review of my next re-read, some years from now.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2017/08/17/the-way-of-kings-the-stormlight-archive-1-by-brandon-sanderson/

Aug 09 2017

Gardens of the Moon (The Malazan Book of the Fallen, #1) by Steven Erikson

What a hot mess of a book.

So here’s the thing: I totally dig the concept. Steven Erikson wants to write a cool fantasy novel essentially viewed from above, with far-removed characters and individual plot threads eventually twisted and pulled together into one place for a climactic battle where All Will Be Revealed. I also usually love books where the author trusts the reader’s intelligence to pick up background through narrative, especially in fantasy/sci-fi novels where everyone has pretty much the same cultural familiarity with the setting.

But Mr Erikson just keeps throwing fresh names (and, I hesitate to say, concepts because proper nouns are hardly deserving of that term when devoid of any attached meaning) at us every three to five pages, and I was starting to feel as if I was sitting in a class with a professor droning on and on and possibly off-topic but no one wants to say anything because all the other students are just as mystified but unwilling to challenge his authority/disturb the status quo. The very many characters are all paper thin; say what you will about George R R Martin’s A Song Of Ice And Fire — which I love, btw — at least his characters are interesting. And the improbable amount of inexplicable deus ex machina were absurd, almost universally unexplained and finally insulting to the readers’ intelligence. I finished the book wondering what the hell the point of it all had been: certainly not entertainment, because it was boring af. My six year-old tells more interesting stories more lucidly.

And, you guys, I really wanted this to be good because I heard it was based on a roleplaying campaign. I quite enjoyed reading the Dragonlance books as a teenager, and was so chuffed to learn that those were based on a gaming group’s fantasy adventures. While I acknowledge that the Dragonlance series will never be considered high art, I expected Gardens Of The Moon to be better, from the reviews. At the very least, I expected to be entertained! I only finished this book (after starting it last September, good God! Fortunately, I had a break in my work schedule where I could push through completion on this) because I’m not a quitter, but ugh, it was a struggle. I’m certainly more educated about the unfathomable tastes of other sf&f fans after this and will likely never purposefully read anything by Mr Erikson again.

Anyway, I’m going to go clean my brain by re-reading Brandon Sanderson’s The Way Of Kings with my bff, who’s never read any Sanderson before. That’s how you do high fantasy right, y’all.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2017/08/09/gardens-of-the-moon-the-malazan-book-of-the-fallen-1-by-steven-erikson/

Aug 07 2017

A Horse Walks into a Bar by David Grossman (translated by Jessica Cohen)

Today I learned that there’s a difference between the Man Booker and the Man Booker International Prizes, doh.

As with other Man Booker winners, this was eminently readable. But as also with far too many other Man Booker winners, this wasn’t as great as I’d expected. Maybe it’s just because I’ve spent so much time recently listening to people who’ve been severely damaged by their parents, but I finished the book thinking how much therapy would have helped Dov and his parents, both individually and as a unit. And I get that therapy isn’t a thing that his parents would have known how to get, but for God’s sake, Dov, it’s the 21st century. Instead of springing your personal horrors on an unsuspecting audience of (mostly) paying guests who’ve come to be amused by a stand-up routine, maybe hire a licensed professional for regular weekly sessions instead of figuratively and literally punching yourself in the face to the horror of the people around you.

And I get that this is supposed to be an extended metaphor for the act of writing and baring one’s soul for the entertainment of others, but it’s all made grotesque and frustratingly self-flagellating to the point where I was just exhausted by Dov’s endless well of self-pity. Yes, he had a fucked up childhood and yes, he acted out in adulthood to a degree that he cannot escape his self-loathing but it isn’t the job of strangers or even acquaintances or even friends to rescue you if you cannot try to fix yourself. While the people around you do have a responsibility to be kind (or at least polite,) they do not have the responsibility of saving you from yourself. When you make your problems performative, you only memorialize them instead of solving them, and I don’t have the patience for that nonsense, whether in real life or in make-believe entertainment.

I almost wish I knew more about internal Israeli politics so I could better see how the book works, as I’ve been assured by other professional readers, as a critique of their society, and I must say that I enjoyed reading all the exotic-to-me details of life there. But at its heart, A Horse Walks Into A Bar is a book about a kid who really should have started seeing a therapist as soon as he was old enough and solvent enough to afford one. People who can’t fix themselves, who can’t find happiness no matter what they do, need to talk to a professional who can help. That probably wasn’t the moral of the story as intended by David Grossman but it was 100% what I took away from this book.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2017/08/07/a-horse-walks-into-a-bar-by-david-grossman-translated-by-jessica-cohen/

Jul 26 2017

Saints And Misfits by S. K. Ali

I’m still struggling with my reactions to this story. Representation abso-fucking-lutely matters, so it’s really great to have an American hijabi Muslim teenager and her diverse cast of family and friends (and foes) take center stage here. But I kept wondering how much my desire to have these stories told reconciled with how impatient I’d feel if Jannah was Jana, the adherent of a conservative Christian sect. I loved the normalization of Islam in these pages but I didn’t feel like it was a really good book, and confessing this has me feeling like I’m letting down the side, being Muslim myself. It was just very YA, in the derogatory use of the term, where things are concluded in tidy packages instead of being examined as thoroughly as one would expect from good fiction of any genre.

The worst part is that I feel that Saints And Misfits does try to examine these issues but the author doesn’t really know how to fit them all into the Happily Ever After conclusion that both she and Jannah so obviously prefer. It’s not a spoiler to say that Jannah is assaulted by a guy from the mosque whom everyone else thinks is a saint, as that’s pretty much the central narrative of the book. The rest of this review has minor spoilers for the rest of the book, so you can stop here if you’re uninterested in knowing what happens next before you get your hands on the novel yourself.

Anyway, I completely understand Jannah’s shame spiral, and her reluctance to tell anyone because she doesn’t want any more bad perceptions of her faith from outsiders. But how the fuck is that stopping her from telling people of her faith what happened? How utterly facile is it of her to internalize the shame of what he did to her when the vast majority of the Muslims around her are clearly supportive of her as an individual, and disinclined to sacrifice her body to the perception of male righteousness? Which, by the way, is not something very many communities, of whatever religion or ethnicity, are inclined to do even in this day and age. It’s great that S. K. Ali celebrates an enlightened Muslim community, but it only makes Jannah’s decisions that much harder to understand. The dissonance between her circumstances and her actions really bothered me, and made me dislike her as a character. I pretty much liked everyone else better (except for her horror show of a gym teacher, who was more intent on shaming Jannah than any Muslim in the book, IMO. And Farooq, obviously.) I was very much #TeamSausun, even if I thought the discussion of wearing a niqab incomplete historically, and didn’t understand why the Niqabi Ninjas were trying to bring attention to themselves when that’s pretty much the exact opposite of why they wear them.

Anyway, it was a worthy idea of a book but the execution didn’t sit well with me. Characters were awesome, and there were a whole bunch of great vignettes but the central plot was meh at best. And, frankly, I’m not 100% sure how much I care about conservative family dynamics, regardless of which religion they’re based in, even ones as unfairly maligned as Islam is in the Western political climate.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2017/07/26/saints-and-misfits-by-s-k-ali/

Jul 22 2017

A Devil to Play by Jasper Rees

A friend whose son plays the French horn was struck by the quality of Jasper Rees’ writing and sent me a copy of A Devil to Play, thinking that I would enjoy this memoir of renewing acquaintance with a musical instrument abandoned in Rees’ final years of school, and of course she was completely right. On one level, Rees’ story is a common one: middle age has not only approached, it has arrived, bringing with it the end of a marriage, a New Person in His Life, and reaching back to a defining feature of his youth, perhaps in an effort to reclaim some of it. So far, so pedestrian. Rees makes no effort to hide what is happening, or how much he has in common with many other people who have gone through similar passages; indeed, one of the charms of Rees’ writing is his very British ability to make fun of himself, not to take himself too seriously. It can be annoying in person, when you eventually come to wonder if they can take anything seriously, but within the confines of two covers, it makes for witty companionship.

A slightly random moment with the New Person recalls Rees to his days playing the horn in the school orchestra. That leads to his collecting classical music that includes the horn, which leads to his picking up his old Lidl, which leads to his joining the British Horn Society (BHS) in a group of seventy players doing the Hallelujah Chorus. That, in turn, reminds him of how great it was to make music as part of an ensemble, even when one is doing it badly, and so Rees conceives of the idea of playing a solo a the next year’s meeting of the Society. A Devil to Play combines the story of that year with the history of the horn in Western music and civilization. It is, so to speak, a hoot, and the best part of it is spending 300 or so pages in Rees’ amiable and self-deprecating company. He’s arch about some things as well, as when he first addresses the question of why he is doing this slightly crazy thing.

In the Albert Hall at this point [in the Hallelujah Chorus] there would be a single vainglorious trumpet taking on the thousand-strong choir. It’s good for announcing things, is the trumpet. It’s not good for much else, this side of Louis Armstrong. Suddenly the answer steals up on me. I am here because the horn is not the trumpet. The horn is not the bassoon or the trombone or the flute. The horn is, incomparably, the horn. In the right hands, it is the most beautiful instrument in the orchestra. In the wrong hands, it’s still better the trumpet. (p. 14)

[By the end of the 18th century] the trumpet will be so marginalized by the horn that in search of its lost mojo it will have to go off and invent a whole new musical form. (p. 99)

But he’s not always insufferable about the horn’s place in the musical firmament.

Continue reading

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2017/07/22/a-devil-to-play-by-jasper-rees/

Jul 14 2017

The Truth by Terry Pratchett

Technology is rising on the Discworld, as surely and erratically as the morning light from the Disc’s sun. Moving pictures appeared briefly in Moving Pictures, but the unreality that they involved kept them from securing a lasting place among the entertainments for the people of Ankh-Morpork. In more recent books, the semaphore “clacks” have come to form a rudimentary long-distance communications network. In the stories, they echo some of the effects of the telegraph in our world; at the time Pratchett was writing the books, they reflected the growth of the internet.

In The Truth, some dwarfs have discovered a way of turning lead into gold. They have figured out movable type printing with lead letters, and people are paying them in gold to print various things. William de Worde, a dissipated but mostly harmless nobleman, has been making something of a living writing a letter full of news about Ankh-Morpork and selling copies of it to people near and far who need to know about key goings-on in the city. He stumbles into the dwarfs’ workshop and sees possibilities. He feels the pull of a buzzing newsroom, though at the start it is only de Worde and the printers. He has an idea what a paper filled with news could mean for a city, especially one on as perpetually changing as Ankh-Morpork. He can’t stay away. It’s a heady feeling. I know it well.

Not everyone in Ankh-Morpork likes new technology, or the ruler who is letting such things develop. Some of the city’s wealthy and powerful have done quite well with things the way they are, and these people think the city could do with a chief executive who is a little more pliable behind the scenes. Some of them have gotten together and hatched a plan to help the current Patrician, Lord Vetinari, retire; they have brought in a pair of talented foreigners to execute the plan, if not necessarily the Patrician himself.

Continue reading

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2017/07/14/the-truth-by-terry-pratchett/

Jul 09 2017

Love Me to Death (Lucy Kincaid #1) by Allison Brennan

Due diligence for work! I didn’t like this quite as much as I enjoyed the Max Revere books I’ve read so far, most likely because there is So Much Backstory alluded to here that it doesn’t feel like the start of a series but the continuation of some other book I can’t quite figure out. Also, it was absolutely maddening how everyone was all “protect Lucy!”… except for the moment she was kidnapped. And that thing at the florist? Ayfkm?! A name isn’t a positive ID, ffs. That was some really shoddy detecting and everyone involved should be thoroughly ashamed.

That said, I’m only really critical because dang can Allison Brennan write a thriller, and I guess I just expect her characters here to be as smart as the characters of the Max Revere books (tho what’s up with Ms Brennan’s thing for half-Cuban ex-boyfriends?) I did very much like Lucy’s perspective not only on survival but also on trust and vigilantism. I kinda want to force the writers of Arrow to read this book for those latter two topics alone. But I digress. The love scenes were terrific! And another stellar thing about this book is the fact that it’s set in DC and actually knows what it’s talking about. I really hate when books are set in my area by an author who has no idea what he or she is doing.

Anyway, an enjoyable thriller and I’m glad to finally make the acquaintance of Ms Brennan’s work. Good, solid stuff. She’s now on my Read This list.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2017/07/09/love-me-to-death-lucy-kincaid-1-by-allison-brennan/

Jul 05 2017

Notorious (Max Revere Novels, #1) by Allison Brennan

Honestly, I picked this up for due diligence for work but if it’s anything to go by, this will be an assignment I absolutely adore! I had so many Veronica Mars flashbacks when reading this book: smart, sassy lead investigates the death of her high school best friend and discovers secrets and lies amidst her closest family and friends. Of course, the smart, sassy lead happens to be past thirty and researching the cold case reluctantly, after being approached by the grandparents of a young architect (engineer? It’s late and I couldn’t be arsed to go get my Kindle to double-check) whose recent murder at the lead’s high school remains unsolved, but might be related to the other murder fifteen (thirteen? See my prior excuse) years previously. I kinda sorta figured out who did it midway through, but the excellent misdirection had me totally abandon that idea, till it all came together in the end. Great plotting.

But my hands down favorite aspect of this book was Max Revere, our heroine, herself. She isn’t nice and that’s a big fucking thing. I’ve recently been having discussions about nice vs polite, and I’ll admit in all honesty that I tend to politeness more than niceness, as I’m competitive and judgmental but realize that that doesn’t mean I can’t be civil about things. A lot of people mistake my politeness for niceness, but I can be a vindictive mofo when crossed. Of course, I default to believing the best of people till proven wrong: I may not be nice, but I’m not a psychopath either.

And “nice” is not an adjective you would ever use for Max. She’s demanding, sometimes bitchy, but always fair. She believes in standing up for what’s right no matter the personal consequences, and while I think her crusade for truth borders on zealotry, I think she does have a very good point regarding justice. You can’t sweep problems under the rug: they won’t just disappear. People who literally get away with murder will 99 times out of a hundred keep doing terrible things until they’re caught and punished. Max understands this instinctively, and combining this with her ability to look at things objectively means that she isn’t the most popular person in her hometown. The event that initially draws her back there is the funeral of the man who was accused of killing her best friend. She was one of the few townspeople to stand by him, but was devastated when he told her, after a trial that ended in a hung jury, that he’d had a solid alibi all along but didn’t want to expose it because he was convinced that the system wouldn’t convict an innocent person (I know, I know, get your eye rolls out of the way here.) Max puts this break down to her hatred of liars but I found her secondary argument to be more valid: the time that the cops and prosecutors put in to building a case against him would have been better put towards finding the real killer, who continues to live undetected. Like, damn, son, stress yourself out as much as you need to, but you’re wasting everyone’s time and money and a killer is going free.

Anyway, I’m really looking forward to reading more of Max and of Allison Brennan’s other books. Good thing that I have three more lined up!

Permanent link to this article: https://www.thefrumiousconsortium.net/2017/07/05/notorious-max-revere-novels-1-by-allison-brennan/