justchris 2009

Edited to add list above my first review (I follow the leaders in this):
1. Forest Dreams, Forest Nightmares by Nancy Langston NF
(see http://www.librarything.com/work/7647731/book/34409469 for my review)
2. Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon #22 (library)
3. Rainbows End by Vernor Vinge #23 (library)
4. Islamic Calligraphy by Yasin Hamid Safadi NF
(see http://www.librarything.com/work/384605/book/34060189)
5. Spin by Robert Charles Wilson #1 (library)
6. Hotel Paradise by Martha Grimes #13 (library)
7. April Lady by Georgette Heyer* #30
8. The Masqueraders by Georgette Heyer #31
9. They'd Rather Be Right by Mark Clifton and Frank Riley #26 (library)
10. Patriot Hearts by Barbara Hambly #27 (library)
11. The True History of Chocolate by Sophie D. Coe and David Coe NF #37 (library)
12. Iron Kissed by Patricia Briggs*
13. Cry Wolf by Patricia Briggs*
14. Ultimate Prizes by Susan Howatch #38 (borrowed)
15. Faro's Daughter by Georgette Heyer #39
16. Green Rider by Kristen Britain #40 (borrowed)
17. A Civil Contract by Georgette Heyer #48
18. Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke #49 (borrowed)
19. Bring Down the Sun by Judith Tarr #50
20. The Time Machine by H. G. Wells #52
21. War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells #52
(or see http://www.librarything.com/work/1099553/book/43417001)
22. A Mediterranean Society, vol. 4 Daily Life, by S. D. Goitein NF
(see http://www.librarything.com/work/1381356 for my review)
23. Magician's Ward by Patricia C. Wrede
(see http://www.librarything.com/work/31560/details/44525038 for my review)
24. Holy Smokes by Katie MacAlister #58 (borrowed)
25. Knight's Wyrd by Debra Doyle and James D. MacDonald
(see http://www.librarything.com/work/268974/book/42765608)
26. Twice Shy by Dick Francis* #64 (library)
27. The Privilege of the Sword by Ellen Kushner* #67
28. God Stalk by P.C. Hodgell* #73
29. The Rogue and the Runaway by Mary Jo Putney* #74
30. Dark Matter edited by Sheree R. Thomas #87
31. Out of the Silent Planet by C. S. Lewis #95
32. Perelandra by C. S. Lewis #95
33. Devil's Cub by Georgette Heyer* #99
34. The Mirror of Her Dreams by Stephen R. Donaldson* #102
35. Beth by Barbara Hazard #103 (borrowed)
36. Plain Jane by Marion Chesney #104 (borrowed)
37. The Village Spinster by Laura Matthews* #106
38. Miss Chartley's Guided Tour by Carla Kelly #111
39. Female Attire of Medieval Egypt by Yedida Kalfon Stillman NF #113 (library)
40. A Man Rides Through by Stephen R. Donaldson* #102
41. That Hideous Strength by C. S. Lewis #95
42. Ceremonial and Art at the Umayyad Court by Oleg Grabar NF #116 (library)
43. Affair by Amanda Quick #117 (library)
44. The Amazing Mrs. Pollifax by Dorothy Gilman* #119
45. Mrs. Pollifax on the China Station by Dorothy Gilman* #119
46. Mrs. Pollifax and the Whirling Dervish by Dorothy Gilman* #119
47. The Dragon Rises by Adrienne Martine-Barnes* #129
48. Cry Wolf by Patricia Briggs* #133
49. Moon Called by Patricia Briggs* #134
50. Blood Bound by Patricia Briggs* #134
51. Iron Kissed by Patricia Briggs* #134
52. Sunshine by Robin McKinley* #138
53. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee* #139
54. Stone of Farewell by Tad Williams* #147
55. To Green Angel Tower, Part 1 by Tad Williams* #147
56. To Green Angel Tower, Part 2 by Tad Williams* #147
57. Dragonbone Chair by Tad Williams* #147
58. A Civil Contract by Georgette Heyer* #48
59. A Morbid Taste for Bones by Peter Ellis #152 (library)
60. The Dispossessed by Ursula LeGuin* #157
61. Bone Crossed by Patricia Briggs #144
62. Delan the Mislaid by Laurie Marks* #160
63. The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff #165 (borrowed)
64. The Crocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth Peters (audiobook) #166
65. The Moonbane Mage by Laurie J. Marks* #160
66. Ara's Field by Laurie J. Marks* #160
67. Alamut by Judith Tarr #168
68. The Forgotten Beast of Eld by Patricia McKillip* #172
69. A Woman Named Solitude by Andre Schwarz-Bart #173
70. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen* #176
71. The Curse of the Pharoahs by Elizabeth Peters (audiobook) #166
72. Bimbos of the Death Sun by Sharyn McCrumb #185
73. Arabella by Georgette Heyer* #186
74. The Black Moth by Georgette Heyer* #186
75. TNT: Telzey Amberdon & Trigger Argee Together (Federation of the Hub, 2) by James H. Schmitz #189
76. Uhura's Song by Janet Kagan* #193
77. Lymphedema by Jeannie Burt and Gwen White NF #196
78. The Hounds of God by Judith Tarr* #203
79. The Breast Cancer Prevention Diet by Bob Arnot NF #196
80. Driving Force by Dick Francis* #204
81. The Raven Ring by Patricia C. Wrede* #205
82. The Dagger and the Cross by Judith Tarr #203
83. Kate by Veronica Heley* #208
84. Hunting Ground by Patricia Briggs #211 (borrowed)
85. Stone Monkey by Jeffery Deaver #212 (borrowed)
86. Mercy Thompson Homecoming by Patricia Briggs #211 (borrowed)
87. A Mind to Murder by P. D. James #212 (library)
88. The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold* #216
89. Kaleidoscope by Dorothy Gilman #219
90. Strong Poison by Dorothy Sayers #221
91. The Chronicles of Chrestomanci: Volume 1 by Diana Wynne Jones #226
92. Parable of the Talents by Octavia Butler #291
93. The Phantom Lover by Elizabeth Mansfield* #273
94. Dragon Bones by Patricia Briggs #265
95. Dragon Blood by Patricia Briggs #265
96. A Nun in the Closet by Dorothy Gilman* #275
97. Sorcery and Cecilia by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer* #276
98. The Stand by Stephen King* #300 (borrowed)
99. A Woman of the Iron People by Eleanor Arnason
100. Greywalker by Kat Richardson #247 (borrowed)
101. Poltergeist by Kat Richardson #247 (borrowed)
102. Underground by Kat Richardson #247 (borrowed)
103. Vanished by Kat Richardson #247 (borrowed)
104. Explorer by C. J. Cherryh*
105. The Postman by David Brin* #297
106. Merlin's Mirror by Andre Norton #282
107. Truly Yours by Barbara Metzger #283 (borrowed)
108. The Mistress of the Jewels by Diana L. Paxson #256
109. Silverhair the Wanderer by Diana L. Paxson* #257
110. The Earthstone by Diana L. Paxson* #257
111. The Sea Star by Diana L. Paxson* #257
112. Reefsong by Carol Severance* #243
113. Tea with the Black Dragon by R. A. MacAvoy #250
114. The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman #239 (borrowed)
115. Deliverer by C. J. Cherryh*
116. The Pride of Chanur by C. J. Cherryh*

I am marking nonfiction with NF and rereads with * (thanks ronincats!).

Back to the originally posted message:

I just finished Spin by Robert Charles Wilson as part of my Hugo novels list (2006 winner). I liked it. It was an interesting idea that I never would have come up with and it addressed both the science/techie geek aspects and the human dimension. What would happen if everyone in the world was confronted with the end of life as we know it in our lifetime, growing up with the certainty of no future, thanks to a technologically advanced membrane that cocoons the planet into almost stasis as the rest of the galaxy ages billions of years. It is an idea somewhat reminiscent of Vernor Vinge's bobbling technology (see for example Marooned in Realtime), except that the people contained inside--the entire human race--are aware of their fate every moment. On reflection, though, the fraternal twins who are the center of the story (besides the first-person narrator), rather stereotypically (in terms of gender) represent the extremes of rationality and intellectual knowledge (the brother) and emotional and spiritual knowledge (the sister).

I also just finished The Science Fiction of Mark Clifton, since this was his only work available in the local public library, and a review of They'd Rather Be Right on amazon suggested that two of the stories contained here help frame the 1955 Hugo-winning novel and lead to a greater understanding and appreciation of this "worst novel ever to win the Hugo." I generally liked the short stories. They are definitely a product of the McCarthy and Cold War era. Once again, they largely dealt with society's response to the unknown and different, though Mark Clifton is generally exploring what he conceived as the next stage of human development--psychic abilities. I'm waiting for the novel now.

I also recently finished Forest Dreams, Forest Nightmares by Nancy Langston, which I reviewed. She does a good job of showing the complexities of environmental conflicts and the inherent uncertainties in natural resource management. But does this book count, since I started it in 2008 and had only a chapter or two remaining?

Next on the list: the only remaining Hugo novel (2005)--Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke. I borrowed this one from a friend, so no deadline beyond my desire to wrap it up.

Also waiting for me: The Caine Mutiny, the first of the Pulitzer winners to come into my hot little hands.

Should I count the one-offs that I pick up randomly, such as Patriot Hearts by Barbara Hamly, tonight when I went in to place the ILL order?

Hey, Chris, good to see you show up in our group! A number of us count books in the year in which they were finished. This is pretty much a set up your own rules set. We don't have categories or have tos--any book you read for whatever reason is fair game here. I would definitely count the one-offs (of course if I didn't, I would hardly have anything to count!). We love to read reviews; you've made a great start.

Hi Chris - have starred your thread because I've already added Spin and The Science Fiction of Mark Clifton to my TBR pile. Thanks!

Welcome to the group Chris!

Oh, a Barbara Hambly book I haven't read - definitely going to have to check that one out.

Sure, count whatever you like. I count books in the year I finish them, and I count any book I read. Welcome to the group!

Okay, maybe listing all of the random items will encourage me to focus on the self-improvement lists to compensate for all of the literature classes I missed. It just might be embarrassing to demonstrate how much popcorn I consume.

I definitely won't put rereads on the list, I definitely don't need others to hear the sound of my wheels spinning, spinning.

I am a longtime Barbara Hambly fan and while I look forward to her new venture into historical fiction, I am sad that there likely won't be any more Benjamin January novels. She has also largely left fantasy behind, sigh. Of course, the Dragonsbane series was rather grim by the end and I'm not quite sure how I felt about it overall. They certainly ranked as some of the most downer books ever, along with Ancient Light by Mary Gentle, perhaps the gloomiest ever, and much of Phillip K. Dick's work, however interesting.

Thank you for the welcome. I'll check and see if any of the other Hugo winners were wrapped up in January too. I forget the details of timing already.

Even if you don't count them, we'd like to hear about books you like well enough to reread them. I'm an inveterate rereader--last year about a third of my books were repeats, and I do count them.

I really liked Hambly's Ladies of Mandrigyn series, as well as Those who Hunt the Night and its sequel. Her first trilogy was a welcome burst upon the scene at the time, but later books in that world seemed awfully dark. I adored Dragonsbane and consider it one of the best dragon stories I have ever read--but have put off reading the sequels all this time because I am afraid they would ruin the first one for me. Your comments lead me to believe that I made the right choice to stop where I did. Yes?

I have a Benjamin January book on the TBR piles, but haven't read any of them yet. I have read her newer fantasy, Sisters of the Raven and Circle of the Moon, and enjoyed them.

I have read Hambly's Benjamin January series, which was great IMHO, as well as Those Who Hunt the Night and Traveling with the Dead. I have not read any of her fantasy stuff, I do not think, so I will have to check . . .shuffling off to do so . . .

What a great idea, to follow the Hugo list. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell will be coming up in my very near future, and I look forward to seeing what you think of it. Welcome to the group!

By the way, there's a sequel to Those Who Hunt the Night, called Traveling With The Dead. Her Renfield was also pretty good.

There's a third one after Travelling with the Dead? Happy happy joy joy. I will have to look for it. I very much liked that pair of books, though I have shied away from the entire vampire genre in general, except where they overlap with werewolves, such as Blood Trail by Tanya Huff or enter somewhat tangentially, such as the Mercy Thompson books by Patricia Briggs, which I am very fond of. Well, okay, I really liked Sunshine by Robin McKinly--boy isn't that very different from her previous works, though. And I liked it despite the rather annoying-after-awhile internal exposition by the protagonist of I can't believe this is happening, I'm not happy, ohmigod think of all the bad possibilities, and then ending tra-la-la by going off to play with the vampire friend who isn't like all those others, really. I suppose most authors have to take that approach, otherwise how could you have a series if the vampires always kill everyone? Who would tell the story and how would we learn more about the darkside? But still, it is a pretty cheesy gimmick.

I haven't read Renfield or Hambly's newer fantasy series. I very much like the Darwath trilogy and its spinoffs and the series starting with The Ladies of Mandrigyn. Dragonsbane is definitely a gem. But once demons enter the picture in book two it is all very grim and horrible and no such thing as a happy ending, only a we survived it at least for now and boy doesn't that hurt sort of ending. I bought the books years ago and did not get around to reading them until last year. As usual, she does an excellent job with the writing, plot, and characterization, and she sure doesn't romanticize demon possession.

And I very much liked the Benjamin January series. I have confidence in the reliability of her research, her attention to details, and her reasonable portrayal of historical cultures. I have to admire someone who is willing to tackle the touchy issues of slavery not only as a legacy from the past but as an institution that warps everyone who lives through it as master or slave. So I very much appreciated learning about New Orleans in the wake of the Louisiana purchase.

The only downside is that Barbara Hambly, like other authors with many books under their belts, has rather archetypal characters that are fairly consistent across all of her novels: 1) the shy, gawky, perhaps pretty but definitely intellectual female struggling to find an acceptable place in an essentially patriarchal society while still being true to herself; 2) the big, competent, wounded, usually self-effacing man who has suffered from hardships and emotional wounds, sometimes self-inflicted through past hubris and sometimes because of the unfairness of life; 3) they find each other and geek love ensues. I happen to like the formula, but after a dozen books it does begin to wear thin.

I have the same problem with Jo Clayton's books. Once again, highly imaginative, richly conceived, very individual fantasy or science fiction worlds that are more often than not derived from non-European models, with artisans often highlighted practicing their crafts, as well as other ordinary citizens going about their middle class lives. But her protagonists are invariably incredibly powerful women who were unwanted/unloved/abused and struggled to survive from a young age against all odds. She not only portrays patriarchal societies, but highly repressive ones that are always in the process of experiencing some sort of massive upheaval (civil war, popular uprising, fundamentalist coup d'etat, you name it) in the course of the plot, leading to all sorts of graphic violence especially directed toward the oppressed women, but not limited to that. So I love her books for the imagination, but I'm tired of the tea-drinking, bath-loving, phenomenal woman (and crew) fighting her way across the landscape as the powers-that-be try to stop her.

But hey, I run on...

Ooops, sorry, didn't mean to mislead you. Renfield's not a sequel. It's a retelling of Dracula from Renfield's point of view. It' s quite good, but for best effect, the reader should be familiar with Stoker's original.

That will encourage me to read the classic vampire story. I've never read Frankenstein either.

Finished today: Hotel Paradise by Martha Grimes. I've read a few of her Inspector Jury novels and found them interesting, but not enough to zealously pursue the entire series. This novel was very good, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Narrated by a 12-year-old girl in a small town investigating the mysterious death of a 12-year-old girl forty years ago, it reminds me a great deal of To Kill a Mickingbird. That same exquisite portrayal of largely unspoken events with only limited understanding by the protagonist and a wonderful internal monologue that certainly sounds realistic and often quite amusing. This is an even-paced exploration of small-town life, growing into maturity, and the mysteries of life. Unlike many modern novels, this story does not rely on myriad characters, crescendoing suspense and danger, or fast-paced, multitudinous, and ever-twisting plotlines, with everything neatly displayed and wrapped in a bow at the end. This story ends with greater clarity and understanding, true, but many details remain only hinted at or unresolved, reflecting the fact that life consists of many uncertainties, even at the best of times.

Hotel Paradise sounds like a good book. Is it a stand-alone book, i.e. not part of the Inspector Jury series?

I noticed you read Spin by Robert Charles Wilson. I don't focus on science-fiction, but when I do read science-fiction, he is one of my favorites. Have you read any of his other works?

{hotel Paradise is indeed a stand-alone book having no connection to the Richard Jury series. As far as I can tell, it is set somewhere in the United States.

I have not read any other works by Robert Charles Wilson. He is a newer author and I have not kept up with science fiction and fantasy for the most part. I became bored with the increasingly repetitive and unimaginative knock-offs of groundbreaking works--turning originality into formula. And rather than continue to sample authors new to me, I went on hiatus for a decade or so. I am just now starting to dabble again, and decided that a targeted approach might lead to more time spent with interesting and challenging stories and less frustration and disappointment. Hence going through the Hugo winners. I think the strategy worked: I am now quite enthusiastic about several authors new to me. So at some point I will probably read Darwinia and other such works.

As a Bujold fan, I was delighted that she won those Hugos, but have to say that those books in isolation really don't do her justice. Rather than starting with her Hugo winners, I'd recommend starting with Barrayar or The Warrior's Apprentice, as the later books definitely build on these. Her fantasy, starting with The Curse of Chalion is excellent as well. Have you already read hers?

I have to say that I was not as impressed with Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell as many. It was a creative storyline, but the story never pulled me into it, if you know what I mean. I'll be interested in your reaction.

I forgot to say hello earlier, ronincats (waves). I think I ended up here following your list of groups. I decided this would be a great way to track books that I don't own.

Seeing how many Hugos Bujold won, I decided the only sensible approach was just to read the entire Vorkosigan series. I liked it pretty well: she has some great dialogue, truly comic moments, and insightful social commentary, and every book is a sort of fun romp. In general, the books that I liked best were not the Hugo winners: the Cordelia's Honor duology, A Civil Campaign, and The Curse of Chalion.

I'm afraid Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell is near the bottom of my borrowed books list because I keep going to the library and then worrying about the due dates after I actually had to renew two novels this year, for the first time ever. I'm afraid that I am reading less fiction these days due to various complications. Perhaps that's why I've been doing so much rereading lately--comfort and ease of use (just walk to the shelf and pick one up--it's like choosing the wine to go with dinner). Also I see that it's a large novel and I haven't quite figured out when I'll have a large chunk of time to sink into it. But then there's that urge to wrap up the Hugos for good. In the next month, probably.

>13 justchris:: Hotel Paradise sounds really good - I read an excellent child-investigating-a-murder book last year (The Earth Hums in B Flat, out in the UK next month, which sounds quite similar - I'll look out for this. (hello, by the way!)

I'll make a note of the book you read. I am a sucker for well-done children in essentially adult novels.

Hello back.

And I will make my confession and apologies at this time. I realize that there are many wonderful people out there reading lots of wonderful things and sharing their wonderful insights. But the truth is I am handicapped by my self-absorption and such limited time (I know everyone suffers from the latter) and my efforts to keep my online presence in balance with other parts of my life. So I am afraid I don't expect to wander much onto other people's threads and I'll miss lots of discussion, and I apologize for my neglect after other people have been so kind here.

#19: Most of us do not have time to read everyone's threads, so don't sweat it!

> 19 justchris, most of us are faced with the dilemma of wanting to read as many threads as possible but having limited time --- the "What We Are Reading" series of threads, i think, is a way of dealing with this. we get to read a "summary" and a quick look of what people are reading on a particular topic/genre we're interested in without having to go through individual threads every time.

Well, I am rather behind right now. I postponed updating this list because I wanted to find out if the library had records of the books I borrowed and returned in January. I have such a poor sense of time in cojunction with a swiss-cheese memory. It turns out that in this post-Patriot Act world they erase patron records as soon as borrowed items are returned. Sigh, so my best guess is that the two Hugo award winners I read before Spin were completed in January. I remember curling up much of New Year's Day and thereabouts

So here are my prequel posts.

First, Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon. A very interesting book, but not one I am interested in rereading. It is a very unusual parallel-universe premise where the state of Israel is never created. Instead, the United States offers temporary residence to Jews up in Alaska. They have their own bureaucratic territory with their own law enforcement and so on, much like our current reservation system for Native American tribes. However, the expiration date for this Jewish territory is fast approaching, reminiscent of the handover of Hong Kong to China in 1997. This is a noir murder mystery complete with the requisite broken-down police detective, bleak atmosphere, run-down motels for transients, ex-wife cum superior officer, run-ins with street thugs, and on and on. Chabon's prose is very evocative and lyrical in an ugly and angular sort of way. I have not read any of his other books, so I don't know whether his descriptive artistry always has such an unpleasant tang, or if it is a function of the genre he is portraying. His dialogue and characterizations were spot on. I could just hear the Yiddish and see the hands waving in classic form as portrayed in endless movies and TV shows. He weaves all of the characters together into a well-rounded plot brought to a fairly neat and tidy end, yet without resolving any of the bigger issues facing the people in the story.

Next, Rainbows End by Vernor Vinge. This is Vernor Vinge's third Hugo for best novel, after A Fire Upon the Deep and A Deepness in the Sky. I thought the first two were fantastic. I like this one as well, but it is perhaps not quite as interesting to me personally because it is not grappling with the big ideas involved in the physics of space travel and intergalactic civilizations and alien biology. Instead, it is a near-future novel that isn't quite cyberpunk and isn't quite as radical as Neal Stephenson's The Diamond Age, another spectacular Hugo award winner.

Vinge continues to explore ideas about the future of humanity. Rather than following the cyborg trajectory of computer interfaces, Vinge describes a virtual reality superimposed on the landscape through a network of wireless transmitters and accessed through microprocessors integrated into clothing, contacts, and other personal paraphernalia. The communication technology and activities (such as silent messaging, or sming) he describes are only a couple steps removed from today. Sadly for us, the medical technology is far more futuristic and improbable. The pivotal character, Robert Gu, is a first-class asshole, or at least was in the old days before Alzheimer's set in, when he was a Nobel Laureate in Poetry who mentally abused pretty much everyone around him, especially his wife. The medical miracles reverse the Alzheimers and rejuvenate him to a second youth. That is the starting point of the story, along with the discovery of a possible conspiracy to mind-control the world. As a triumvirate of international security experts tries to hack into a U.S. research lab by means of their mysterious hireling, Mr. Rabbit, (plausible deniability, anyone?) who manipulates cluesless catspaws, Robert Gu tries to rediscover his poetic voice and cope with an unfamiliar world. As the storylines converge, mayhem ensues. The story is well-crafted, the plot is engrossing, the characters are sympathetically portrayed, and the myriad details are a romp. The pop culture references are hysterical. The author leaves many, many loose ends that beg for a sequel. I'll keep my eyes open for it.

I read The Diamond Age recently. Perhaps I will try the Vinge books as well. Thanks for the recommendation!

The Diamond Age was amazing. Remember that I was reading all of these Hugo award winners after going on hiatus a few years after Neuromancer burst onto the scene. So then jumping into the deep end and grappling with all of these great concepts just made my head whirl. I talked about Neal Stephenson's book for days at work, doubtless to the annoyance of my colleagues. I haven't read any of his other books yet though. I understand that he has quite the fan base.

After a night's rest I am now ready to tackle the remaining reviews. Next, They'd Rather Be Right. It apparently cannot be found in the library systems in my state, the ILL book came from a small college in Minnesota. A reviewer elsewhere was correct in saying that you really need to read "Crazy Joey" and "Bossy" among his short stories before tackling the novel. They provide the back story and events leading up to the opening scene of the novel: the two professors and Joe as fugitives hiding out on Skid Row in San Francisco in the wake of public hysteria about the creation of a cybernetic machine capable of thinking and therefore replacing people. While federal agents seek them, they reassemble "Bossy" and test its capabilities. It was originally commissioned by the government as an airplane pilot for some sort of automated defense system, but Professor Billings, the project director, is a psychologist, so the first test involves psychotherapy with a test subject. Bossy treated all of the physical and mental dysfunctions and blocks of Mabel Monahan, a retired prostitute and the landlady of their hideaway, down to a cellular level over the course of two weeks. In the process, Mabel acquires telepathy and is rejuvenated and even becomes immortal as cell death is eliminated, along with any prejudices or assumptions about the nature of truth and reality.

As I've said before, the novel is very much a product of its time: the 1950's McCarthy era and the Cold War, as well as Einstein's Unified Field Theory and the expanding field of psychiatry involving both psychoanalysis and new pharmaceutical treatments. This book is less about science and more about the nature of society and the human condition. In many places it is proselytization thinly disguised as pages of exposition. Once again, Mark Clifton's concern is the hazards of authoritarianism, the arrogance of the privileged, the insidious influence of marketing, unacknowledged assumptions and biases disguised as truth, and the fear of the other, especially if it is suspected of being better. He is fascinated with the idea of mental coordinate systems and conceptual frameworks and how these may prevent us from achieving the full potential of the human mind and retaining the accomplishments of civilization. It is a good read in terms of ideas and arguments that are worth exploring, though it is certainly true that the plot and characterizations are minimalist.

Even small novels are rather too long a format for Mark Clifton, I'm afraid. He shines much more in a short story format, where a compelling idea at the expense of characters, plot, dialogue, etc. is not so detrimental to the overall effect. While the novel is worth reading, I am not interested in owning it. I am interested in acquiring a collection of his short stories, though these also are hard to find in paper format.

On to Patriot Hearts by Barbara Hambly. I have been a fan of hers since her first fantasy novels. I stumbled across her Benjamin January murder mysteries quite by accident. And now it looks like she has abandoned those as well. So she has gone from completely imaginary worlds of her own creation to imaginary characters in a historical context with real historical figures in minor roles, and finally to fiction revolving around actual historic figures.

Once again I am the broken record: I have always enjoyed her writing. Her prose is above average, and I occasionally stumble across new vocabulary words (the other authors where I find new words at regular intervals are C.J. Cherryh and David Brin); the characters are interesting, well-rounded, and deftly portrayed; she clearly does her homework and shares a wealth of minutiae that give amazing depth to the culture and era that she is exploring; and she has always provided insights into women's roles and perspectives that feel very genuine to the context.

This book is no exception. The subtitle is A Novel of the Founding Mothers, and it covers the years 1787-1815 with narration back to about 1773. This book is very different from Barbara Hambly's usual style. It is written as a series of interlocking vignettes with the imminent burning of Washington by British soldiers in 1814 as the larger frame. The stories jump back and forth through time and are told from the perspectives of Martha Washington, Abigail Adams, the controversial Sally Hemings, and Dolley Madison. So they are a sideways perspective on the political and personal events prior to and during the presidencies of George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison. Only a couple of the characters in the novel are completely fictional. A Dramatis Personae at the end clearly indicates these, as well as describing all of the real historical figures that have even brief mention in the book.

I enjoyed the book, but it is always embarrassing to read something like this and not know how it will end and to be completely unfamiliar with many of the events and people described. It was the same way when I watched Apollo 13. At least I knew the Titanic went down, but it's a pretty sad commentary on my knowledge base and I consider myself above average in terms of education and knowledge. I tend to concentrate on the medieval era, so the most recent 300 hundred years are a blur to me.

Once again, I learned more history from my recreational reading than in public school history classes. I am sure we covered all of these things decades ago, but I am terrible with names and dates, and sometimes history class just feels like an endless roll call of Important Men and Battles and Laws. This is a work of fiction, so all of the feelings and dialogue are essentially pure invention. But the physical objects, people, events, and even attitudes are largely well-documented historical fact, I'm sure, with the exception of Sally Hemings and Thomas Jefferson, who are the only unmarried couple represented--I will not get into a debate of whether they really were a couple--and around whom there isn't an extensive body of both modern scholarly research and contemporary documents.

The only real drawback is that the vignette format meant that there isn't a plot continuously moving forward, and the novel isn't necessarily driven by dialogue. While the copious descriptions and exposition are valuable, the book's layout tempted me more than once to jump ahead to the next sequence with the same characters or more stimulating action.

It was a fun, painless way to become familiar with Revolutionary Era history and a poignant reminder of the hard choices and personal costs involved with public service, which even today remain largely invisible thanks to the still-poor accounting of the private, "female" sphere of life.

#27: I have Patriot Hearts home from the library now to read. I hope I learn as much as you did from it. I have read several of Hambly's fiction books - her A Free Man of Color is excellent - and hope to enjoy this nonfiction one by her as well.

I should point out that Patriot Hearts does not give a clear sense of the chronology of events portrayed in the novel or of historical events that take place between the vignettes portrayed or even a good sense of what was happening overall during those momentous times. It is a first-hand, immediate, and intimate fictional "memoir" that can provide additional insights and understanding to supplement a more conventional history of the era. For example, I was unaware that both Martha and Dolley were in their second marriages when they became First Ladies (not that the term was used back then). I confess I floundered occasionally due to my poor grasp of the history (Washington was burned? The British invaded? What?). She does provide a bibliography that can act as a good starting point. While I am interested, I doubt that I will pursue it further: too many other demands on my time.

I also greatly enjoyed A Free Man of Color. Her perspectives on slavery are presented very similarly in both books. It is still very hard for me to wrap my brain around the entire institution. I can understand it with my mind, but I just can't "get" it in a very fundamental way, in the same way that I can't quite make that leap of imagination to truly understand mental illness. Trying to figure out how various slaves and their masters are interrelated and possibly incestuous just makes the head hurt. I finally concluded that Sally Hemings was Thomas Jefferson's late wife's half-sister, and therefore the unacknowledged aunt of Jefferson's daughters, Patsy and Polly, for whom she acted as playmate and nursemaid, respectively.

First, a belated thanks to alcottacre and deebee1 for your reassurance. I have starred a bunch of the What We Are Reading threads, but have not had much time yet to peruse the long ones.

Next, I managed to space a couple of books that were quick car reads during busy weekends. I wrote a review of the first one already, but I took too long with the lunch break, so LT timed out and I managed to lose it. Sigh.

Anyway, the first of these overlooked novels was April Lady by Georgette Heyer. I vaguely recall this from my youth, in the sense that I recognize the title and maybe some of the plot was somewhat familiar. But since I did not remember it well enough to know what was going to happen next or who was who, it is basically a new book to me now.

This was entertaining and a breezy couple of hours, but not a keeper. In fact, I can't even remember the characters' names right now. It is one of Heyer's more contrived stories. The 18 year-old heroine is in a love match and doesn't even know it, although she's been married about a year. She turns to her scapegrace brother for help when her husband scares her with a scold over her debts. In fact, this scenario feels somewhat like modern Regency romances that rely on increasingly improbable plot devices to throw two strangers into forced intimacy. But while modern romances often take this approach for the sake of including sex scenes, it is not clear whether our couple here even have sex during the course of the story. I suppose these rough patches lead to lonely beds occasionally.

The story is a very entertaining comedy of errors and manners with some great dialogue and some very humorous scenes, such as when her harebrained brother holds up her coach as his first ridiculous plan to help her raise the necessary funds. So it's worth borrowing from the library to while away a rainy afternoon.

The other overlooked book is The Masqueraders, also by Georgette Heyer. I liked this one better than April Lady, though it is a wildly improbable story. Perhaps because it is so over the top unbelievable and the protagonists are rather more clever than clueless, I found it more worthwhile. This features Prudence and Robin, siblings on the run after the failed Jacobite rebellion (of 1746 I believe). That makes this story much earlier than the Regency period that I am more familiar with. This is the era of wigs, powdered hair, rouge and patches, corsets, hoop skirts, and duels. Cross-dressing siblings who hide in plain sight among high society in London while awaiting the arrival of their father the inveterate intriguer--what could be better? Their father is the perfect example of feelings of grandiosity experienced during manic episodes or megalomania generally. That doesn't stop him from being a charmer and keeping even his own children guessing. This is a cross between a double-romance (brother and sister both conveniently find their loves at the same time) and high adventure with the requisite villains. Don't look for character development. Between the action and the dialogue there's no room for character growth. It's got kidnapping, swordfights, drinking, gaming, a long-lost heir, multiple denouements, what more can one ask for?

I've been meaning to start in on some of Georgette Heyer's work, and The Masqueraders sounds like a great place to start -- thanks for the review!

Also, feel free to count me among Neal Stephenson's extensive fanbase -- Cryptonomicon is one of my favorite novels ever.

The Masqueraders is a favorite of mine. I love the old man's many plots, and Prudence and Sir Anthony are great characters. I have not so much patience with either Robin or his lady love, but I think that's just personality. I'm with you on April Lady. I reread most of my Heyer's every 4 or 5 years or so, but although I enjoyed it the first time, and there are some very funny scenes, Nell drives me distracted with her lack of common sense. On the other hand, Horry, at a similar age in a very similar situation, continues to amuse over time (The Convenient Marriage).

#32 Alynnk, I am tempted to acquire The Masqueraders. I also very much liked The Grand Sophy and Frederica, but as I have mentioned before, I am a sucker for stories with children when they are reasonably well done.

I will probably read more of Stephenson's work. What would you suggest I try next? How independent from each other are his works?

Ronincats, I will have to check out The Convenient Marriage and continue reacquainting myself with Heyer. I think I've exhausted what is readily available on the shelves of my local library branch, so I will have to start requesting them.

But then how will I make progress on my lists? Wrapping up the Hugos, actually getting through some nonfiction, starting on Pulitzers....not enough reading hours.

Hey, you have to have some time just for pure relaxing enjoyment, or what's a read for?

>34 justchris: Playing favorites insists that I suggest that you make an attempt at Cryptonomicon first. If you make it through that -- and believe me, it may take you a couple of tries, as it took me a couple of tries (and twelve dollars in library fines, but that's another story) -- the Baroque Cycle: Quicksilver, The Confusion, and The System of the World are a sort of 'prequel' to Cryptonomicon. They're more historical fiction in style, but also deal with cryptography. Other than that, his works are fairly stand-alone reads.

And... I don't think there will ever be enough reading hours for any of us. So many books, so little time. I have lists all over the place myself, but I'm a little too scatterbrained and not disciplined enough to make myself follow them for too very long.

Thank you alynnk for the recommendations. Certainly, I think Cryptonomicon is what he has received the most recognition for. I had heard of that one and not The Diamond Age when I took that on.

Too true, never enough reading hours. I fondly remember my youth: no real responsibilities and I'd go through a book a day. Now it's hit or miss that I'll make my 75 book challenge. I never thought it'd come to that.

ronincats, I see you've doubled your challenge goal and that you're well on your way to meeting it.

But I should get on to the review. I finished The True History of Chocolate today when I was trying to take a nap. I liked it and I'll be trying to find a cheap used copy. The authors are a married couple, the wife being the food historian who traveled around to various libraries and archives over a few years to collect the materials for this book. Unfortunately, she died before it could be written and her husband completed it after she apparently dictated the rough outline and part of one of the chapters. That information is in the introduction to the second edition that I read.

The book is very readable and engaging, full of anecdotes and excerpts from a range of primary sources, as well as an array of illustrations. They trace the origins of the cacao tree, Theobroma cacao, and the history of its use as beverage, medicine, and food, from pre-Columbian cultures (Olmec, Maya, Aztec, etc.) to modern day chocolatiers, ending with the beginnings of fair-trade chocolate bars under the Green & Black label. The book is divided into eight chapters (my summaries, not actual chapter headings): 1. cacao biology and ecology, 2. early cultivation and production (Olmec and Maya), 3. Aztec, 4. Conquistadores and their criollo settlements, 5. its introduction and adoption in Europe during the Age of Exploration and Baroque era, 6. cultivation and trade during the Colonial era, 7. Enlightenment and Revolutionary Eras, 8. modern industrial processes and development of chocolate candy industry.

I learned a lot about the plant itself and how chocolate is made, as well as about indigenous cultures and the saddening details of conquest and colonization. The book included images of Mayan archeological artifacts and ideograms and the most recent archaeological findings that date cacao use much earlier than previously thought. They also discuss the origins of the word "chocolate."

Traveling to Europe, the question of hot chocolate during fasts came before the Pope more than once. The authors detail this religious and political debate, as well as the sociopolitical roles of tea, coffee, and hot chocolate as the beverages associated with particular movements or classes. I learned something new about White's, the exclusive club known for its gambling that is prominently featured in many novels set in the Regency era: it was opened as White's Chocolate-House in 1693 by an Italian immigrant.

The authors also include a variety of recipes from different time periods. They also describe the first experiments to incorporate chocolate into food and the possible origins of mole poblano, of Mexican cuisine fame.

The book also covers the history of commercial cacao plantations, from Maya days in Meso-America through its establishment in tropical zones worldwide to its recent introduction to Hawaii. The different plant varieties are covered and what kind of beans they produce in terms of quantity and quality. The invention of the Dutch cocoa process and modern machines are detailed.

The only complaints I have are minor quibbles. The prose is very engaging and personable because it is generally quite subjective. Sometimes that subjective (read, judgmental) tone was annoying and somewhat snide. The text also frequently included self-referential asides. I didn't need to be told multiple times that there was more on a particular topic ahead or already described elsewhere.

So this book is a fairly comprehensive look at a single species of food plant and its cultural importance over time in a variety of contexts. The text is accompanied by substantial notes and an extensive bibliography that allow the reader to chase down the original sources if so desired. And a note on the book's title: it pays homage to one of those sources, The True History of the Conquest of New Spain, a first-hand account written by a retired conquistador to refute all of the myth-building taking place in his lifetime.

Ha ha! I have successfully relegated myself to a backwater. So I can bubble away without making any waves.

I felt in need of comfort recently so I reread the two most recent Patrcia Briggs novels: Cry Wolf and Bone Crossed. I won't spend too much time on it because they are rereads and my current comfort reads at that. I discovered this author last year when I started dipping into modern dark urban fantasy. I have always been fond of werewolves, not so much vampires. And I appreciate an author who explores issues of being a racial minority and a woman in a traditionally male field and a blue-collar protagonist who isn't law enforcement and questions of gender and identity and sexuality and all that in a book that isn't really about all that. Maybe if these things were just a given in more books we wouldn't have special genres devoted to these themes--lack of representation leads to marginalization leads to subcultures etc. Not that such specialized genres are necessarily bad, but sometimes it would be nice if mainstream meant diversity.

But enough of that.

The new book I just finished was Ultimate Prizes by Susan Howatch. This is not a book or an author I would ever have picked on my own. This book was a reciprocal loan after I sent some of murder mysteries to entertain someone with a broken ankle. And because it was a loan I stuck with it even though I was ready to quit several times in the first 100-200. I have little patience for smug, pompous, white, male, privileged asses who are living in a perpetual state of denial and who delude themselves into thinking their lives are perfect and they're not making any mistakes (or even capable of such humanity). So why the hell would I waste hours of my time on such a hero, told in the first person no less?

Well, first it was a loan and I was making a good-faith effort to respect this offering from a relatively new acquaintance.

Second, it is a British novel set during WWII. My grasp of modern history is a little thin and most of the historical fiction I read is set in Victorian era or earlier, so any exposure to events of the twentieth century is good for me. And it's British and I just love listening/reading that style of English, so different from my Midwest.

Third, I am a very confused agnostic who is very ignorant about Protestantism in all its forms and the hero is an archdeacon of the Church of England. This novel is the third in a series by the author exploring the Church of England from various viewpoints. I freely admit that I have neglected my spiritual development and regret that I avoided religion and philosophy in school (as well as college-level literature). So I am clueless about the various sects--C of E, Baptists, Methodists, Evangelicals, Lutherans, etc.--beyond what I have stumbled across in conversation and recreational reading. And I am starting to think about all of those wonderfully difficult questions, like what is the purpose of marriage, how do I deal with a lack of faith (not a lack of interest, simply unable to cross the void with that necessary leap), what is the difference between ethics and morality, how the hell do I figure out what possible churches to maybe attend or what are the roles of church and state? So it was nice to read a book that covered some of the theological history of one organized religion at least. And it was especially nice to recognize some of the names tossed around (such as Niebuhr and Bonhoeffer, thanks to Speaking of Faith with Krista Tippett) and learn about others (George Bell and Charles Raven).

So once the novel starting digging into some of the theological issues and debates I was interested in learning more. And of course, being a dramatic fiction novel, it had to involve some sort of personal crisis for our hero. And once he got off his high horse and admitted he was in serious crisis and lost and that he put himself there (in other words, gained a little honesty and humility and vulnerability), I stopped throwing down the book in disgust at his general assholery. The book is divided into three main sections: Crisis, Under Judgment, and Salvation. Each part and chapter opens with a relevant quote from Charles Raven. Luckily, partway through I went to the back and read the Author's Note and discovered that this was a real person and these were real quotes. I am now tempted to go look the books up and add them to the virtual TBR pile. So the plot itself was nothing too exciting: fairly well-paced and predictable and ending with a reasonable amount of closure and ambiguity.

The writing was good in terms of the prose, neither scintillating nor dull. It did not distract from the story and the themes by being too glossy and clever or irritatingly repetitive and awkward. The story did include children, but didn't spend much time with them. After all, it is all about our hero, and his family was present only sufficiently to display his personal character and insights (or lack thereof). So I guess their lack of representation reflected their importance in his interior life during the course of the story. I did like the letters that were included and references to other correspondence. I am fond of that letter-writing convention however much others may loathe story-by-mailed-installments as it were. And it made the long exposition on the Church of England far more palatable than some sort of internal monologue or lecture completely disconnected to anything in the story.

I don't know if I will look up her other books in the series. It took such a long time for this one to engage me. Of course, that was true for the first Dick Francis novel I ever read, Flying Finish. However, I did manage to finish it and was hooked, rapidly going through his entire body of work. Of course, that's not hard to due with what are essentially straightforward action novels. And the protagonists listed for the other books (all of whom make appearances here) can't possibly be as annoying as this guy.

Two days ago, I finished Faro's Daughter by Georgette Heyer, another one-off from browsing the library shelves. It was a quick read and moderately entertaining. It is a straightforward predictable plot involving a masterful and sporting hero who has never faced resistance and a beautiful, upright, and smart heroine. Of course he misunderstands her and assumes the worst, of course she is deeply insulted and decides to play on his prejudices and have her revenge, of course they loathe and despise each other right up to the end.

Our heroine Deborah, is forced by circumstances to work as a dealer in her aunt's gambling parlor, so tastefully run in a private home, but barely respectable. And of course she cannot afford to alienate the men who patronize the establishment, including the college boy who wants to marry her and the requisite middle-aged painted roue who wants her to become his mistress. When our hero Ravenscar, the boy's tall, dark, handsome, and very rich uncle, comes to disentangle him from his infatuation, he of course assumes that she must be sleeping around and intentionally seducing the boy--what other sort of woman would be in a place like this and encouraging the attention of more than one gentleman? The old roue is not a villain so much as a plot device to demonstrate our hero's masterful cardplaying, apply leverage to the heroine, and finally provide some insight into her fine, upstanding moral qualities.

It is not the romp that April's Lady was, but it has its moments. Once again, the charm is in the daily minutiae of the period--the various items considered essential to running a high-end establishment, the intricacies of picquet, the cosmetics and coiffures, the qualities of fine horseflesh culminating in the de rigeur currcicle race between our hero and another of the unsavory gentlemen who frequent gambling establishments. Probably the best and certainly most comic moment is when Ravenscar, kidnapped, bound, and locked in the cellar, orders Deb's brother to stop interfering and show more personal loyalty to his sister, when this sibling tries to ingratiate himself with the brother of his love interest after the horrifying discovery of his sister's machinations--in the midst of the evening's gambling crowds no less.

The historic era of this novel is not quite clear to me--the mention of duels probably places it before the Regency era, but mention of the "sainted French Queen," Marie Antoinette who was guillotined during the Revolution places it later than 1789. Powdering the hair and wearing patches are out of style and practiced only among the older members of the ton. There's also mention of Pitt's, as Prime Minister I assume, tax on powder, which would place it in 1789–1801 or 1804–1806. This story includes very few references to real historical figures, or particular dress styles, or entertainments such as opera and theater productions, or other evidence that entrench it firmly in a given time period. It is so far the least chronologically anchored book that I have read by her.

Green Rider by Kristen Britain was another book loaned to me by a friend and another fantasy author new to me. I believe this is Britain's first novel, but the sequel was already in production at time of publication because advertising blurbs for it were in the end pages.

It was a charming story that moved quickly right from the beginning and kept up the action to the end, which made it hard to put down and cost me a good night's sleep. It was well-written in terms of prose, dialogue, pacing, etc. The downside is that the characters are two-dimensional at best: the bad guys are all very bad, except for the one woman who might be redeemable, and the good guys are all very good, and you can tell because the bad guys are generally unattractive in various ways (physically, morally, etc.) and the good guys are all attractive and forceful. The story is also very formulaic: girl gets in trouble at school, on her way home she stumbles across a dying messenger, she takes up his quest to deliver the all-important dispatch to the king, and the forces of evil plotting against the king make repeated efforts to stop her, kill her, destroy the message. However, she wins through against overwhelming odds surprising everyone--bad guys, good guys, herself. But wait, there's more--nobody appears to take her apparently trivial message and warnings of evil on the loose seriously, and so the bad guys come in and try to overthrow the king. Once again, she's johnny-on-the-spot and saves the day. So this essentially high-school girl defeats incredibly skilled swordsmen, incredibly powerful magicians, and incredibly determined run-of-the-mill bad guys over and over through her force of character and useful objects found or given along the way. It is very reminiscent of The Fellowship of the Ring and The Elfstones of Shannara. It could be considered an homage to the former, since Britain acknowledges the profound influence of early exposure to Tolkein.

This book would be very good for a young adult: the young protagonist trying to find her way at school and purpose in life, the heroic quest, the relatively straightforward plot with few twists or extensive exposition or complicated politics. And because the characters are very simple, there isn't much push to explore motivations, the only point where this occurs is with the one woman on the evil team, and the treatment is not very deep. The only potential issue is the size--it is easily over 400 pages, which may deter young readers, but it does go quickly and is very entertaining. I don't regret the time or the lost sleep, but I don't know whether I will look for the sequel.

You echo my experience with this book. I never bothered with the sequels. Meredith Lackey did a better story with a very similar plot in her Arrows of the Queen book.

I recall seeing Arrows of the Queen in the stores, but was never intrigued enough by the back cover to pursue it. I know that Mercedes Lackey is a prolific author with a very large following, but I must say that the only books of hers that I was inspired to read were the Diane Tregarth Guardian books. I thought they were quite interesting and have reread them. All of her other works have struck me as either fairly hackneyed and unoriginal high fantasy or urban contemporary with little appeal (I really have no interest in punk rock and mall elves), all with little heft--lots of empty calories. But perhaps I shouldn't dismiss her out of hand like that. After all, much of the fiction on my shelves from the 1970s and 1980s doesn't really carry more weight. Maybe I am just too critical and unfun in my old age. But she hit the scene right when I was surfeited with traditional northern-European derivative fantasy, so I just never bothered.

I like the Diana Tregarde books quite a bit. Her first trilogy, Arrows of the Queen, Arrow's Flight, and Arrow's Fall, was pretty original for the time and quite enjoyable. As a coming of age series for Talia, it has somewhat of a YA feel to it, and I really like a lot of the plot elements. After that, the Valdemar books got sqwicky pretty quickly. I think she returns to what works in those books in the three prequels, Exile's Honor, Exile's Valor, and Take a Thief. And I also liked The Oathbound and Oathbreakers. I never cared for and only read one or two in the Bedlam's Bard, Bardic Voices, and Serrated Edge series, and have not been enamored of her fairy tale re-tells, although I have read most of them. So I would say some of her work, most notably her earliest work, is worthwhile, but much of her later work is weak.

Thank you for the overview of her works. It is hard to imagine anyone else doing fairy tale reinterpretations better than Robin McKinley and Jane Yolen.

And thank you for stopping by. I think that I took so long to get going, my earlier visitors moved on to newer and more interesting threads. So I figured I'd be talking to myself for the rest of the year.

Oh, no, I have you starred, Chris. You won't be getting rid of me so easily! And Lackey's retelling, reimagined in a Victorian England setting, are interesting but nowhere near the quality of McKinley and Yolen, two of my favorite authors.

ETA we're doing a group read/discussion of Friday's Child this weekend. You can find the link on the Group Page if you are interested--I know you've read several Heyer's this year.

I was intrigued, but I am afraid I am committed to working on translations and redactions this weekend for 16 c. hot chocolate. Besides, Friday's Child is one that I would need to request from the library and it would take several days to arrive at my branch. So I am afraid I will have to pass this time. But perhaps you will organize something similar in the future. BTW, I haven't found any of the newer issues of Heyer's works in the bookstores. Very disappointing.

That is disappointing. The Borders here has quite a collection of her books reissued in beautiful trade paperbacks--I've not started collecting them yet because I still have my 70s era paperbacks, but they are tempting! It looks like amazon.com has at least 15 of her regencies in the trade edition, as well as some Kindle books, and some of her mysteries, which I don't care for.

Well, clearly my procrastinating has not done me any favors. I now begin a series of nine book reviews, though my devoted reader (singular intentional here) will have to follow a couple of links for all of them.

Oh so long ago to pass a Friday night I picked up A Civil Contract by Georgette Heyer. I thought that I had exhausted the Heyer possibilities at my local library branch, having combed the shelves as well as the paperback carrels several times. But I forgot the large-print section until recently, where I discovered this one.

I don't think this was one that I read in my youth, though I am pretty sure that I would not have cared for it back then. This is a very atypical romance novel. It is not one of those farces where one or both parties are in denial and fail to recognize that love and attraction may be driving their conflicts. It is not the story of two people meeting and falling in love and finally managing to get engaged by the end. And unlike most romances, there is never a point where the heroine declares her feelings either to herself or anyone else directly. There are no villains here, but there is a love triangle or quadrangle.

Instead, this is the story of a storybook romance that crashes on the shoals of real world difficulties. Our hero falls in love with the girl of his dreams when he is on leave from the Peninsular campaign to recover from his wounds. She is the epitome of the high society damsel--beautiful, rich, romantic, not very practical, full of feminine accomplishments like playing the piano, and all exquisite sensibility (in modern terms, a drama queen). However, the story opens when he inherits the family estate and, more importantly, deep debts upon the untimely death of his father in a hunting accident. He and his potential father-in-law recognize the impossibility of his marrying and supporting a wife, particularly such a high-maintenance butterfly with no real domestic skills. So he must give up the woman of his dreams and this passionate romance that they both feel.

Out of familial duty, he agrees to marry a rich heiress, daughter of a Cit, to save the family seat and be able to provide for his sisters and mother to some degree. The rich heiress turns out to be a school friend his lost love, who had also met him before during his convalescence (though of course he doesn't remember her). This romance is the story of two people developing a strong relationship through the daily intimacies of marriage and running a household together, as one of them copes with a broken heart. It is also a story about the antiheroine--she is not pretty or accomplished, uncomfortable in Society, awkward in many ways, with an extremely overbearing and vulgar father, however well-meaning he may be.

In some ways, this Heyer novel is a far closer examination of the society of the day than many of her novels. As the hero copes with his father-in-law and his own family and his ex-fiancee, we see just what the expectations of tonnish society are, in terms of things said or done or left unsaid. Likewise, as the antiheroine copes with being thrust into high society and running a lord's house, we see the underlying assumptions and attitudes and behaviors of servants, tenants, and masters, which are usually taken for granted and unexplored in novels where the couple comes from the same class and have the same "breeding" and background. We also see some of the differences between urban and rural society and different moral frameworks between the middle class and high society.

So it was an interesting read, but definitely understated and more sober than her other works. I'd consider buying it.

Next on the list is Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, the premier novel by Susanna Clarke. This was the very last of my Hugo award winners for best novel (2005 winner). So finally, I have finished that list.

This is a large novel, over 800 pages in an oversize paperback format. It must have taken her years to write, less because of the size, but because the story is dense and extremely self-referential, far more so than the entire Harry Potter series taken together. The story was very slow at the beginning and not very gripping, in large part because Mr. Norrell is so very unlikeable. This was fine by me, because it made it easy to put it down after meals and move on to other things without losing any sleep. The other reason that it was so very slow was the plot itself. Unlike most novels today that rely on action (sex, violence, suspense, etc.) and fast pacing, with multiple subplots and many, many characters to keep the reader engaged and jumping, this book really only had a handful of characters, many of whom were extremely anticharismatic, not just the first of the two eponymous protagonists. So for the first third, maybe even half, of the book, it wasn't clear where the story was going and when it might get there.

However, it certainly became much more interesting with the introduction of Jonathan Strange, the second protagonist, and his new wife. In personality and appearance and approach, he is the antithesis of Mr. Norrell. Once he enters the story, the pacing picks up and it slowly becomes much more action-oriented. I finished the last quarter of the book with a couple of very late nights.

This is one of those pieces of historical fantasy that takes pretty much real, well-documented events and people and inserts an element of magic into them. Judith Tarr would be a prime example of this approach, as would the Regency-era novels by Patricia C. Wrede. In fact, Clarke's Hugo winner is also set in the Regency era. And I must say, it was quite disorienting to read her version of the battle of Waterloo, being far more familiar with other versions from the Regency romance genre, most notably An Infamous Army by Georgette Heyer. I felt a similar sort of disorientation provoked by such a tangential approach upon reading Wallace Stegner's Angle of Repose, which is in part the story of a mining engineer and his wife on the western frontier. However, I grew up reading Louis L'Amour westerns, including those revolving around mines and boomtowns, and Stegner's characters and attitudes and plot elements were so vastly different from the typical western that it just caused a certain amount of cognitive dissidence. Likewise for Jonathan Strange, set in the drawing rooms and battlefields of the romances, but from the very, very different perspective of social outsiders.

Now the genius of this book has to be the footnotes. It is listed in Wikipedia under "Footnotes as Literary Device" (which was very interesting, BTW, and has added to my TBR list). Clarke includes footnotes whenever the characters mention/visit a particular book (entirely fictional, I assume, since they are all on magic) or historical figure (whether real or fictional) or landmark location or anecdote/folk tale. Many of the footnotes are very brief and just add a richness of depth and complexity to her story, but some are quite extensive, sharing long anecdotes that are barely mentioned in dialogue. Many of the footnotes reference the biography or writings of Jonathan Strange, which are at least as entertaining as anything else in the book.

I think this book is a keeper, too bad I have to return it to my friend. While it was quite unengaging at the beginning, it was quite interesting by the end, with the climax and resolution having a sense of inevitability that was saved from a feeling of predictability by the lyrical quality of the prose in the final section. The writing itself was generally quite good and added to the story rather than distracting. The imagery was quite vivid. Also, her portrayals of magic and how has worked and developed are very interesting and not quite run of the mill.

The only real flaw was how annoyingly long it took Jonathan Strange to figure things out. I really wanted to kick him in the middle of the book to miss all of the signs, which should have raised some suspicions, and not just from my perspective as omniscient reader (thanks to the shifting POV of the narration we know a lot more than any of the individual characters). I suppose this denseness on his part was essential to the flow of the plot, but I still didn't like it. I even developed an appreciation for most of the unlikeable characters (and they outnumber the nice), who turn out to have their strengths.

So as you can see, I've managed to produce another lengthly review, this time without actually providing any plot information. That's okay, though, as I am sure the information is available elsewhere. The book achieved adequate resolution, though it has certainly set the stage for a sequel. I am not sure whether one is planned or even if I would like to read it. This book is quite monumental and I suppose I fear something ineffably unique and charming might be lost in any sort of continuation.

Third to be reviewed today is Bring Down the Sun by Judith Tarr. It was a new book at the library and I picked it up because my querido is a scholar of the classical era.

This story is set in the Greek heydey of things like The Histories by Herodotus. It is a short, uncomplicated, and sweet story. The heroine, a descendant of Achilles of Trojan War fame, has reached puberty and effectively rejects her upbringing as an acolyte of a temple of the goddess, whose worship is fading as matriarchal societies are giving way to various warring, patriarchal groups. During a major religious fertility festival she meets her future husband Phillip as they play the roles of god and goddess. The story ends with the birth of her son Alexander, future king of Macedonia (and more). The book is divided into three parts according to her name at each significant stage of her life: Polyxena, Myrtale, and Olympias. The story is an exploration of gender roles as much as a gentle introduction to the world of the classical period of ancient Greek civilization. Unfortunately, I am not familiar enough with this time period to have any sense of how accurate were her portrayals of either the cultures and mindsets or historical events. This may be an excellent way to get someone interested in history in general and ancient Greece in particular.

I'll try to review the next three tomorrow.

#50: Bring Down the Sun looks intriguing. I will have to look for it! Thanks for the recommendation.

I will be tuning in tomorrow for your next set of reviews . . .

@51: I enjoyed it although the official review included on the amazon site was relatively negative.

I will review the next two stories together, since they were both in the same book that I picked up at a thrift store recently: The Time Machine and The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells.

It is still amazing to me how many classic and highly influential science fiction authors and stories I have managed to miss in 30+ years of reading. I never read any Asimov or Clarke until my late twenties and thirties. My exposure to Heinlein and Bradbury are still very limited. And until I picked up this book, I had never read any Wells.

This little volume includes an introduction written by Isaac Asimov, which is quite well done. He discusses the origins of science fiction as a genre, the seminal roles of Jules Verne and H. G. Wells in its establishment, and the general cultural context that inspired their works.

I was vaguely familiar with The Time Machine; I think I've seen fragments of at least one movie version. I hadn't quite realized the impact of this story (beyond the exploration of time travel) on pop culture. For example, I knew that the Morlocks of X-Men fame were named for *something*, but until I read this story I did not make the connection. In this story, the scientist who invents his time machine shares his experiences to invited guests at a dinner party, which include the narrator. The intrepid explorer travels to the far distant future (hundreds of thousands of years) and discovers the ultimate fate of mankind--divergence into two distinct species, the Eloi and the Morlocks, and ultimately extinction thousands of years beyond that.

In contrast, The War of the Worlds is quite well known, given my familiarity with the various productions over the decades in radio and on screen. It is the inspiration for endless stories of hostile first contact by marauding aliens: Invasion of the Bodysnatchers, V, Independence Day, etc.

Both stories are quite imaginative and predicated on late-nineteenth century understanding of science in terms of evolution, astrophysics, etc. They are quite well written, with elegant prose and evocative imagery. Wells does not bog down by avoiding either endless exposition or minute descriptions. The writing style is definitely dated to our modern eyes, and may be difficult to digest for some modern readers, but I found it very accessible.

The other interesting aspect of these stories are his social premises, which also reflect the thinking of the day to some extent. His supposed mechanism for the development and coexistence of the Eloi and Morlocks is founded on class differences extrapolated along a distant trajectory and seasoned with some poetic justice. Kind of like what happens when the exact opposite of Marxist model of social dynamics ensues. Likewise, Asimov suggests that Wells consciously drew many parallels with the colonialism of the British Empire for The War of the Worlds. In the latter case, Wells spends a great deal of the story exploring how individuals and society as a whole react to overwhelming and unimaginable crisis. In both cases, Wells does not appear to be optimistic, but he is nowhere near as dark as Philip K. Dick, whose works as a rule appear to be quite pessimistic. Admittedly, I have not read *many* of Dick's works, but they are in a league of their own in terms of the feel of his prognostications on future society.

So end result, I enjoyed both stories and I am glad I finally repaired this gap in my coverage of science fiction. I will doubtless seek out other works by Wells.

I just realized that I meant to limit the actual reviews in this thread to books that I don't own. So I am going to have to duplicate my review just before this in my library. Sigh. I am not too organized or technically proficient.

Anyway, you can read my review of S. D. Goitein's volume 4 of A Mediterranean Society at http://www.librarything.com/work/1381356.

>49 justchris: thanks for the heads-up re 'Footnotes as Literary Device' on Wikipedia! The footnotes were one of the things I also appreciated a lot in Clarke's book, and generally enjoy in fiction, so I'll have to check that out....

Do you BookMooch? I notice there's a copy up there if you'd like to fill the gap once you return your friend's copy.

#53: I read the review and promptly added the book to the Continent!

Thanks for the review of Johnathan Strange & Mr Norrell. I bought the book when it was released based on a recommendation on Neil Gaiman's Journal. I started the book three times and couldn't get into it. I also actually bought the audiio book and never listened to it. Now that I know it only starts slowly and get's better I'll probably add it back on the TBR pile.

@56 Yes, I wondered whether it was worth continuing for awhile. But it was a novel that I was able to consistently put down when I needed to, so that was a boon to me and kept me going. Mind you, I took a few breaks to inhale some other novels partway through.

One thing that I did not comment on was the general style, which is a little strange to modern eyes (outside of high school English classes). The Wikipedia entry on Susanna Clarke said that the style is something of a pastiche influenced by Austen and Dickens among others.

@54, Flossie, I plan on taking up BookMooch, but haven't gotten around to setting it up yet. Unfortunately, the pile of books that I've gathered to dispose are generally not much desired by others (go figure), so they may be contributing to my untidyness for awhile even after I get my act in gear.

@55, I do not doubt that you will conquer! It may be a continent but you are the intrepid explorer who travels many bookmiles that the rest of us only dream of.

And hey, thanks everyone for dropping in. On to the next reviews...

OK, two of the remaining three books are in my library.
The review for Magician's Ward can be found at http://www.librarything.com/work/31560/details/44525038.

The review for Knight's Wyrd can be found at http://www.librarything.com/work/268974/book/42765608).

And hey, if I am screwing up the links, let me know, because that's part of my general technical cluelessness.

Holy Smokes by Katie MacAlister was left behind by a house guest. It is apparently book 5 in a series, but was generally fine as a stand-alone novel. Katie MacAlister writes in the new urban dark fantasy style made prominent by such authors as Jim Butcher, Laura K. Hamilton (who I have yet to read), Tanya Huff, Patricia Briggs, Rachel Caine, and Robin McKinley in Sunshine. While many of these authors concentrate on vampires and the like, MacAlister's approach of dragons living among us disguised/shapechanged as humans seems a little more original.

The protagonist is the powerful Aisling Grey, a Guardian--a group dedicated to keeping the demons and other evil beasties at bay. She is trying to get married to her true love, Drake, who is the leader (wyvern) of the green dragons, and whom, I gather, she met and became involved with over the course of the series. But alas, many, many disasters and bad guys and other plot devices intervene and comedy and action ensue. The story rolls along at a fast pace that never really lets up, filled with snarky dialogue and steamy sex. It would doubtless make a great Hollywood movie and I don't think much would be lost.

What do I think of it? Well, it is a very chic, modern tale filled with hip, urban, flat characters. It was a good way to kill some time, but I am not sure I care enough to pursue any more books. The story ends with instructions to rabid fans to visit the website to read all about this dragon universe, join various dragon septs, become a Guardian, etc. etc. None of the proposed activities are to my taste, but then I've never been a part of fandom however fond I may be of some authors' works. And while I enjoy sex, and I enjoy talking about it with friends, I am not necessarily enamored of stories built almost entirely around it. Aisling seems to be about halfway to orgasm every time she's in the same room as Drake, and it really gets old. I don't really mind a certain amount of sex and love scenes, but for the most part I grew out of the soft porn by my twenties. I confess I am more interested in complex characterization and clever dialogue and interesting concepts and eloquent prose. It is the dragon concept she explores that makes me pause and think about maybe, maybe reading another one, because the rest are barely there.

I read the first book and ran into the same thing--flat characters, too much emphasis on the sex at the expense of relationships, and not all that much plot. Haven't continued, myself.

I had essentially the same reaction to Rachel Caine's Ill Wind. It had that same flavor of steamy sex, snarky characters, lots of action. The characters had a little more depth and the somewhat interesting concept was that the universe really is out to get us, and only the magical people with elemental affinities save us from Nature's destruction--fire elementals in the fire department help reduce the number of fatalities, and so on. A modern interpretation of djinns is also moderately engaging. To maintain the suspense and drama, Caine starts midway through events and then proceeds to jump back and forth between the very beginning toward the middle and middle toward the end, with flashbacks to fill in the backstory on the protagonist's relationships with other characters. In addition to the sex there's the fascination with hot cars. It's kinda like The Fast & The Furious racing across the U.S. as played by a weather witch, told in a rather confusing nonchronological style. I haven't decided whether to read another of those books either. I certainly wouldn't spend money on them, but I might pick one up at the library.

I read the first 4 of those before I gave up--there was definitely more story and more character. But as each book kept having more and more catastrophic problems, I wore out!

#58/59: I agree about the McAllister books - I tried the first and decided I did not need to read any more of them. I have not tried any of Rachel Caine's books, and from the sounds of it, I do not need to!

Well, I am glad to know I am not alone in my reaction to this style of fantasy. I have been out of the loop, so have only recently started dipping into these modern authors. I don't think I am a prude, but I was beginning to wonder about these new-fangled fantasies.

I am not a vampire aficionado, so I have yet to try any Anne Rice and it is why I haven't bothered to hunt down any Laura K. Hamilton or umpteen other vampire authors even though I know they're out there and they are legion. I liked the Diana Tregarde? books by Mercedes Lackey, really the only Lackey books that I thought were worth keeping, not that I've explored her works much. And of course those books are long past cutting edge.

I read the first Harry Dresden book by Jim Butcher and liked it pretty well. It's a good amalgamation of hard-boiled detective with gritty urban fantasy. I'm interested in reading more, but I haven't put any effort into it.

I really liked the Patricia Briggs Mercy Thompson novels, though aquascum panned the latest, Bone Crossed. I haven't gotten my hands on it yet, but I have seen that the series is pulling in more and more tropes from the romance genre, which I have mixed feelings about. However, the series has a few things going for it. It is nice to see a minority protagonist. It is nice to see someone in a blue collar profession that isn't law enforcement. And it is nice to see a setting other than the trendy metro spots of NYC, LA, Toronto, etc. So far this is the modern fantasy series that I have liked most.

I would certainly try more, but I don't have any solid leads on anything.

Ronincats, thank you for the info about the Rachel Caine series. I wasn't sure about giving it a second chance. But I do get annoyed with reliance on more and more outrageous and implausible events as a series goes on (for a TV example, try ER). And while I like strong female leads, I am also annoyed by the tough as nails, smart-talking, sexy, bitchy protagonist that somehow everyone is hot for. I don't mind a few of those traits scattered about, but all rolled up into one dynamite package makes it a little hard for me to connect. Obviously, I am just too fussy and opinionated and want some realism with my escapism. Some people just can't be pleased :) Or maybe I just prefer saccharine and simple charm.

I must take a moment to confess a slight indiscretion. I picked up a copy of Twice Shy by Dick Francis along with some other items on one of my used bookstore expeditions and read it soon afterwards. I forgot about it because I filed the book away on someone else's TBR pile and because the experience of reading it was so unmemorable (not to mention a repeat for me).

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy novels by Dick Francis--they're fast-paced, easy to digest, and with a generally engaging hero displaying heroic grit and perseverance and doggone goodness and virtue and stoicism in the face of injury and danger. The class male-oriented action/adventure/suspense on par with romances. I've read most of his works and I have appreciated his efforts to expand beyond his own background in horse racing to explore other kinds of interesting jobs: investment banker, wine merchant/taster, architect, painter, meteorologist, glassblower, photographer, inventor, consultant to families of kidnap victims, etc. He's also done a good job portraying just about every angle of the racing business--from the jockeys and trainers and owners, to bookies, breeders, transporters, accountants, veterinarians, racetrack owners, and on and on. And he mixes up the personal angles--this one single, that one married happily, this one widowed, that one married unhappily, another in a long-term relationship...So the stories are formulaic in the sense that the genre has very specific limitations, but within that format he has done his best to avoid writing about the exact same person in the same stage of life experiencing the same dramatic plot devices.

Twice Shy is told in two parts from the perspectives of two brothers: first the older one who is a physics instructor (and Olympic-caliber marksman), then the younger one who has always been horse mad but ended up being unable to pursue a jockey career and is trying his hand as business manager for a wealthy owner of many, many racehorses. It's a two-part story because first the older brother has a run-in with some bad guys, then years later so does the younger one, thanks to mistaken identity. It's about as good and interesting as any other Dick Francis story. A nice read for an airplane trip or a quiet, rainy Saturday morning.

#64: I am not at all sure what the indiscretion is, but I am adding Twice Shy to my Continent. I have only read one Dick Francis book and I enjoyed it, despite the fact that I do not even like horses.

The indiscretion is that I read this book maybe sometime last month and I completely forgot about it. So it is listed as number 26, but I read it before Knight's Wyrd and a bunch of others.

This is by no means a favorite Francis novel. I think The Edge might qualify, perhaps because it was one of the earliest ones I read. And I am a big fan of trains. I also really like the one with the photographer who is an amateur jockey, but I'm blanking on the title. Flying Finish was the first one I ever read and I almost didn't complete it because I just didn't connect with the protagonist, but I did get hooked about halfway through and ended up blown away, if only because I had no idea what to expect from a Dick Francis novel. Proof with the wine merchant was quite good, as was the one with the kidnapping consultant, another title I am blanking on and a quick search is not turning it up.

I've decided to just copy and paste as needed. After all, this thread is what keeps me on track in terms of reviewing books, not my library listing.

I stumbled on Ellen Kushner's The Privilege of the Sword last year on a pilgrimage to Powell's along with several other interesting books. It is a followup to Swordspoint, which was given to me by a fencing friend many, many years ago. Both books are quite good with wonderful characterizations, interesting plots, good dialogue and action, excellent prose.

They are fantasy in the sense that they are set in a city of about Renaissance era technology and cultural developments, in an otherwise indeterminate world. But there is no magic, no strange creatures, no supernatural plots to take over the world. I certainly enjoy that style of fantasy, but because of all of the flashy gimmicks (and essentially derivative nature), the quality of the story and writing is often poor. On the other hand, the stories that are fantasy only in the sense of a non-modern setting that concentrate on the human condition, often exploring social and political questions, in my experience are usually quite high quality. They have nothing to fall back on to entertain and impress the reader, just plot and dialogue and description and the prose itself. Ellen Kushner's books fall solidly in this category, as does The Sword of Winter by Marta Randall. I'm drawing a blank on any others at the moment, so perhaps my hypothesis is flawed, or simply my library is too small.

The Privilege of the Sword is essentially an examination of male privilege in society, as well as class privilege. It is the story of a young girl who goes to the big city to make her fortune, and thus repair her family's fortunes, at the behest of her uncle the Mad Duke, who was the source of her family troubles. He offers a bargain: send me my niece to learn swordfighting (think Renaissance fencing a la Romeo and Juliet ere) and my lawyers will stop harassing you. He is considered the Mad Duke because he is openly homosexual (bisexual, really) and a subversive who refuses to follow the manners (read hypocrisy) of polite society and an iconoclast who would rather hang with lowborn scholars than the socially acceptable and recognize the rights of a street tramp to be as equally valid as those of a minister of state. Of course, since he's a duke, he's merely eccentric.

Kushner does an excellent job portraying a teenage girl full of romantic ideals who dreams of beautiful clothes, attending balls, attracting cicisbeos, and ultimately making a good marriage, one who is horrified at the thought of wearing pantaloons instead of skirts and looking men full in the face. This is the rather conventional beginning of this lovely coming of age story, which of course is about her transformation into an independent, thoughtful adult.

#67: Looks pretty good. I will add the entire trilogy to the Continent. Thanks for the review and the recommendation!

#67: I've never read Ellen Kushner, but I definitely will be trying her now. I love your review and the subject matter sounds right in line with what I like to read.

Edited to say: I also LOVE Powell's. My then-fiance, now-husband used to go to school in Portland and every time I went to visit him, he knew I wouldn't be happy unless I got a pilgrimage to Powell's.

Thank you for dropping by, Cauterize. I have enjoyed both Kushner books tremendously and will probably make an effort to procure more. After posting my own, I was interested to read the other 23 LT reviews. I was startled at the number of negative reactions, but a great many of them seemed to be from disappointed fans of Swordspoint who felt cheated that the central relationship in the first book was a relatively minor part of this story. Others could not connect with the protagonist or considered the portrayal to be unrealistic or unlikely. But I agree with the reviewer who quoted from the story itself (a character talking about a romantic novel all the girls adore): "It is full of great and noble truths of the heart. And swordfights.”

I can appreciate Powell's more from a distance. When I lived in Portland I did not shop there so much because the majority of their inventory is new books and I rarely can afford those prices. I am a used book hound who haunts thrift stores, used bookstores, rummage sales, library sales, etc. And also, most of the books that I am actively seeking are rather obscure and often out of print and I could not find them on the shelf, even at Powell's. However, I am thinking of making the switch from amazon in terms of online bookstore browsing. I did very much enjoy our trip to Powell's last year and had a hard time fitting all of the books into the luggage for the return trip home.

#70: I clicked the work link to Swordspoint and think that Privilege of the Sword sounds more interesting, so I will start there, even though it is the second book.

I probably appreciate Powell's more for personal reasons... There isn't any large selection independent bookstores here in Alberta; it is mostly big chains stores. Also, usually what I'm looking for isn't very rare :) so Powell's often carried the used books of what I wanted. Lastly, mercenary reasons. At the time (and still, to some extent) the jacket prices for a book were vastly different between CDN$ and US$. Taking a quick look at my shelves, I'm seeing some hardcovers for $21.00 CDN but $14.00 US and paperbacks at $10.99 CDN and $7.50 US. For the 3 years my husband was there, the Canadian dollar grew so strong that we were close or on par to the greenback. So you can see how it was a great investment for me to stock up on books at Powell's even with the conversion. Also, I would have had to pay 6% sales tax here and Oregon had no sales tax. I'd gleefully overload my suitcase on my return and then think how much money I "saved" myself by buying all those books!

I sympathize with the lack of good bookstores. I am spoiled here in Madison, just as I was in Portland. I know all about "saving" money by ultimately creating a great deal of inconvenience for myself, and usually involving lugging around heavy things.

God Stalk by P.C. Hodgell--an oldie but a goodie. My querido decided to reread this on his last visit and left it lying out. I started where he left off and continued to the end.

I first stumbled across this book in a used bookstore somewhere on my rambles in the 1980s. I was intrigued by the title--stalk as noun or verb? I was delighted by the story: it has humor, fast pacing, interesting ideas, a dark side including death and mayhem, and a well-imagined world. It is something of a dark yet light-hearted fantasy with a unique flavor and an engaging heroine struggling with the eternal questions of identity, honor, life's purpose, and the nature of god. Jame stumbles into the old city of Tai-Tastigon pursued by haunts. She tarries a year, makes friends and enemies, and struggles with her amnesia before continuing her travel to rejoin her people, the Kencyrath.

Sadly, P.C. Hodgell has had terrible luck with publishers. Her stories are quite well done, yet she continues to languish in relative obscurity and the early printings of her books are nigh impossible to find. I suppose I contribute to the problem, because every time I find them in the used bookstores I snap them up so that I may give them away. When Meish Merlin bought the rights and rereleased the first two books (this one and Dark of the Moon) plus a short story ("Bones"), I immediately bought several copies as Christmas presents. Four books in the series have been published, and she is currently working on the fifth.

The Rogue and the Runaway by Mary Jo Putney--a modern Regency romance, part of a series. It is moderately interesting and not quite painfully contrived. Our heroine, Maxie, is a half-Mohawk American girl, visiting her father's English relatives for the first time and mourning his sudden death. But wait, his death is mysterious and she doesn't really feel welcome in her uncle's country estate, so she decides to hoof it to London. Along the way she trips over our hero, Robin, who is napping in the forest on his brother's estate as he rusticates and recuperates from his escapades as a spy on the continent during the Napoleonic Wars and Vienna Congress (see The Controversial Countess). Alas, his spirit is broken, but he is captivated by this strange young woman who falls on him when she doesn't look where she's going. Meanwhile, her relatives figure out that she's wandering around England alone and decide that she must be saved/stopped/brought home. Bow Street Runners, angry and worried relatives, suspicious characters, the dangers of the open road, the dangers of intimacy, the possibly injured pride of the unseduced, the past emotional traumas of so many people in so many past relationships who now find each other. It's a highly predictable, but generally entertaining farce. The charm is in the sideways portrayal of American life not long after the colonial era and unusual glimpses into aspects of British livelihoods and the national food economy, particularly the drovers. This book also touches somewhat on questions of racism and post-traumatic stress syndrome. But Putney's books tend to be very simple, saccharine, and resulting in multiple happy endings in each story. Easy to digest when you want something to pass an hour or two without effort.

#73: I will add that one and her others to the Continent in the hopes of one day tracking them down!

#74: Easy to digest when you want something to pass an hour or two without effort. I agree - and Putney is a lot better at telling stories than a lot of the romance writers. One of my favorites of hers is One Perfect Rose. When you have another afternoon to yourself, you might give that one a try.

Aaaah, lucky you, to be visiting Tai-Tastigon with Jame! That book sucks me in every time!

Stasia, it looks like most of her books are available used on Amazon, and Baen is reissuing them. Also, the new book is due out in early July! Fortunately, I picked up the hardbacks when Meisha Merlin brought them out!

I found God Stalk on ABEBooks.com and have already ordered a copy (it's close to June 1st, isn't it?), so I will see how I like that one before I order any more.

Thanks for the info, Roni!

I'll TBR God Stalk with a note to myself that it's hard to find. I also now know what "querido" means after I babelfished it! :)

I am struggling with meaningful handles for loved ones. Boyfriend feels rather high schoolish and inherently temporary, somehow. Yet we aren't married. And significant other feels stilted. I often like partner, if only for all of the inherent ambiguity, but we're not living together or even in the same city, so that doesn't feel right either. On the other hand, querido, to my mind, can mean both lover and beloved. It's usually used in the feminine form in Spanish-speaking areas to refer specifically to a man's mistress. It is not necessarily unusual (though perhaps uncommon) in some regions to come across a man with essentially two families, one with his wife and one with his querida. I knew such a couple (man and querida) as godparents to a friend of mine. My personal usage is bending some of the more typical connotations, but I like both the lover and beloved as inflections of the same word. So querido it is.

The books by P.C. Hodgell fall into the rare category of those that I would push on everyone. However, I have had lukewarm reactions a couple of times, so I don't push so much (besides running out of giveaways).

#79: I think everyone struggles with titles. I'm newly married and I refuse to say the word "husband" unless there's a figurative gun to my head -- like if I have to introduce him to a stranger. I cringe anytime he says "wife". I'm still 'Ms. Maiden Name'. But yeah, if we had decided to not get married, I have no idea what I'd call him as my life-partner. Probably "hey you"... haha. But, I like learning things from different languages all the time.

What amazes me is how often people insist on using the terms husband and wife even when I make it clear that I am not married. I can appreciate the label squirm.

I'll write review of Dark Matter and Out of the Silent Planet (and the rest of the trilogy, doubtless, since they are quick reads) soon. I am taking a while to digest and compose my thoughts. And sending off the belated tax forms finally.

I like 'querido', justchris - nice. Always such a difficult area.

Flossie, thank you for the support. Sorry it's taken me so long to respond. I am now many books behind again (see the list at the top for a sense of that), but I am not going to review anything right now. Instead I am going to shut down and unplug the computer--severe thunderstorm and tornado watches tonight. Hopefully, I'll get to these things in the next couple of weeks, but I've been swamped outside of work.

Today's the first day I've seen the collections feature in action. I like it. I immediately started modifying my library to take advantage of the feature.

By "next couple of weeks," I clearly meant sometime in the coming months. I am afraid that I have fallen rather behind on my reviews--25 books since last time. They're listed sort of in the reading order. I'm afraid the tower of books next to the desk got knocked down a few times, thus disorganizing them. And the library book had to go back, so I almost forgot to add that one to the list. I'll start chipping away at these in the coming days, now that the big summer event is past and I survived. Because of the stress of many tasks leading up to the big event and my accompanying tiredness, I have largely been rereading an assortment of comfort books for the last month.

First up will be Dark Matter, a collection of short stories, which I confess is a format I rarely read. Stay tuned tomorrow, really. It's past my bedtime now.

Glad to see you have survived!

@86: Stasia, thank you for the greeting. I am afraid I am the type who works in fits and starts rather than steady output. I also procrastinated because I was trying to figure out how to compose my review of Dark Matter. I will preface my ruminations on that book with some long, rambling personal commentary. Please indulge me.

In the last year or so I have started exploring more of the online communities, LibraryThing being only one venue. I have also been reading more and more blogs, beginning with friends' and branching out to group blogs devoted to various social topics, particularly questions of racism and, to a lesser degree, sexism.

In other words, I've been educating myself, which is a very embarrassing admission--to be middle-aged and still pretty clueless--and an obvious sign of my fairly privileged position in society, for all that I was on welfare as a child and spent my formative years in very diverse neighborhoods, unlike my high school years and beyond, which have proven to be quite, quite segregated in retrospect. On the other hand, when I was younger, I prided myself on my flexibility and my ability to get along with other people, which meant that I tended to put the most favorable interpretation on events and people, always bending over to give the benefit of the doubt.

Now that I am older, I feel crankier, more set in my ways, more opinionated, and much less willing to "go along to get along." I am perhaps not as wonderful a companion, because I feel compelled to challenge people's assumptions and various stupidities, even in fairly casual conversation, rather than letting these small things pass. Perhaps this is the result of reflecting on incidents in my own past for a good decade or so, putting together so many small, subtle things, as well as some great big ones, and realizing "no, this person wasn't young and stupid, he was just an asshole," as well as finally really getting comments made by older women when I was still quite young and truly believed there were no real gender differences.

Also, my background is in science, so I have little academic exposure to these social issues and the scholarly discourse about them. That has been just as fascinating as the topic itself. The other fascinating aspect is that many of these blogs overlap into the science fiction and comic book fan communities. Now I have read science fiction and fantasy my whole life, and comic books sporadically, but I have never been part of any fan community, though many of my friends have. So it has been just as amazing to see these new perspectives from a completely different angle about the literature that I am most connected to, and not just the writing itself, but the community--from online publications to author chats and more. I have followed parts of the RaceFail and MammothFail aside: my first attempt to include links! discussions, which overlap a great deal. I have read and enjoyed the works of some of the authors involved in these, so it is certainly interesting to see interpersonal communication from them. It's all been quite educational on so many levels.

So that is one key piece of background information. The other is that I fell away from exploring fantasy and science fiction for a great many years. After devouring endless novels in my youth, I grew sick of the sheer repetition and lack of originality. I was hungry for something that wasn't medieval northern European with magic or essentially modern American in spaceships. I wanted aliens that were alien, not just guys with prosthetic foreheads (sure, the vast majority of hypothetical life out there must be about our size, with bilateral symmetry, vocal communications, etc.), and something other than people riding around on horses in oak forests meeting with elves on so many other worlds. Why not make further north hotter for change? Come on people, how hard is it to change such a simple assumption. I can't say that I was more than vaguely aware that there were no minorities in most of the stories, or gay people for that matter. But I certainly noticed on the rare occasions when they were present, because in addition, the author usually started with a different set of assumptions or cultural models that also helped the novel stand out, and I wanted more of it.

But it never occurred to me to seek out minority authors. Frankly, I didn't spend much time thinking about the authors. I didn't figure out that Octavia Butler and Samuel Delaney were African American very recently, again with the embarrassment. Neither have I read any of their works, though I recognize that they are big names. I haven't read many other luminaries either until pretty recently, thanks to my Hugo quest and the gifts of friends outraged by my ignorance. This is also true of non-American authors--once again, I am ignorant and lazy and should read more beyond my borders.

So I was delighted when I stumbled across Dark Matter: A Century of Speculative Fiction From the African Diaspora at the university bookstore discount table. Somebody did the work for me--a whole smorgasboard of African-American authors spanning a hundred years. Like any anthology, it included a range of quality, tone, style, voice, and general flavor. Some I liked a great deal, some I felt an immediate connection with, others I found strange, confusing, disturbing, or otherwise uncomfortable. The book consists of an footnoted introduction by the editor, Sheree R. Thomas, 29 short stories (3 being excerpts from novels), and 5 essays.

The book was definitely worth the read. I'll be keeping it on my shelves and looking up some of the authors for additional works. And it was successful enough to spawn at least a couple of sequels, as thematic anthologies often do.

Not surprisingly, the stories I found most engaging were narrated by women, because, while I could not necessarily connect with these women of color through personal experiences of racism, I certainly share many of the observations and feelings of being a woman in a sexist society. There are some (many) things that (straight) men just don't think about. And the women in these stories were so warm and real and strong: Lilith, Adam's first wife in "Sister Lilith," Gilda in "Chicago 1927," the nameless narrotor in "Can You Wear My Eyes," Dossouye in "Gimmile's Songs," Granny in "Greedy Choke Puppy," I could go on.

Also not surprisingly, more stories had a dystopian tone rather than optimistic, which is to be expected in meditations upon racism, however speculative the medium. Standing out in this direction are "Black No More," "The Space Traders," "The Pretended," Future Christmas," and "Tasting Songs."

The authors drew upon American, African, Caribbean, South American, and probably still other cultures for their inspiration, historical and modern and mythical, creating a vibrant storytelling palette without any sense of repetitiveness. And the science fiction involved some fascinating ideas.

So I mostly liked it, just like other anthologies by multiple authors I have read. And as I said, I will continue to rectify my reading lacunae, following the excellent leads provided in this book.

My other reviews will be much shorter, I'm sure. This book was meatier than everything else I read in the last 30 days.

#87: But it never occurred to me to seek out minority authors. Frankly, I didn't spend much time thinking about the authors.

I do not spend a lot of time thinking about the authors either. I do not care if the author is purple with pink polka dots as long as the book is good. I do not actively seek out either male or female, black, red, white, yellow or any other variety of author - I just want read worthy material. When someone reviews a book here on LT that looks interesting to me, I immediately go to my local library's website to look for the book, not to the author's website to find out their color, gender, etc.

I understand your point. But what I am realizing is that it is not usually the people benefiting from the status quo who are going to look beyond it or ask others to do so. It requires effort, and the people who have the incentive to make the effort are those who are on the fringes in so many ways. Why are women nonexistent at best to adjunct, one-dimensional stereotypical characters in science fiction novels of the 1950s? Because the vast majority of authors were men who considered female characters unnecessary to their stories. It took women, writing under male pseudonyms at first, to begin portraying women in more realistic, three-dimensional, nuanced, and central-to-the-story ways. So if I want more interesting stories that are not pale shadows of Tolkein, I am more likely to find them at the cultural fringes, and that means minorities and people who have immersed themselves in the other at some time in their lives.

Carol Severance is an example of the latter. She served in Peace Corps in the Polynesian Islands somewhere and appears to have settled in that region. Her science fiction and fantasy reflects that cultural context, making it some of the most wonderful and original stuff that I have read. Once again, not just because her novels reflect a different culture, but because an author who has made that choice often brings other strengths to the storytelling along with it.

I understand both points and while it is true that those outside of the status quo must challenge it, I do not make that the arbiter of whether I read a book or not. To me, that is cutting off your nose to spite your face. There is a reason that the classics are classics, in spite of (or possibly because of) the fact that the majority of them were written by white males.

I have not read anything by Carol Severance and will look for her books. I read a wide variety of books, but cannot say that I have a great deal of knowledge about her part of the world.

I think you are misunderstanding me to some degree. I am not refusing to read all of those books by white men. That is mostly what I read and have read and will continue to read. I am merely saying that I want to make more effort to be well-rounded, to diversify, to challenge myself, and to move beyond the same old, same old, and I am realizing that to do so involves thinking about who the author is and what context he or she brings to the writing table. And rather than stumbling around in the dark trying to find new, interesting authors by randomly picking things up or relying on the back cover, I realize that a more strategic approach will yield more rewarding reading experiences. Hence, my Hugo reading list--note, mostly white men and to a lesser degree white women, but I don't know the particulars of every author and didn't read up on them at the same time I was reading their Hugo award winner.

Macaroni and cheese may be my number one comfort food that I am most familiar with, but when I go out to eat I am more interested in checking out other cuisines that I don't get at home so much. I wasn't exposed to diverse cuisines growing up for various reasons, and I certainly resisted my mom's experiments when I was a child ("green noodles, eww"). But once I went off to college I was exposed to so many new gustatory experiences, and I realized that they were good and that I need not limit myself to the familiar and mainstream diner fare. Have I abandoned standard American Midwestern cuisine? Well, a few dishes here and there, but by and large, no. Instead, I have expanded my personal recipe repertoire. And if I learn about a restaurant offering a cuisine I have never tried, I am very interested in at least trying it. That's part of the strategic effort to expand my dining horizons. And so it is going, much more belatedly and slowly for my reading diet.

And so I am realizing there are whole realms to my literature that I never thought about and didn't realize existed and that is exciting to discover.

Is the Hugo reading list published online somewhere, Chris? I would be curious to see what is listed.

>92 alcottacre:: Stasia, if you go here you can find most things Hugo. For example, the nominees are at this sub-link. Lists of previous winners can be found here.

#93: Thanks, Tad!

@92: Stasia, my apologies for not responding to the question. I was out of town this weekend with a poor connection at best.
@93: Tad, thank you for addressing this and providing useful links.

Onto the next reviews. I will keep trying to dole them out, and hopefully I will review at a faster pace than I take in new books. I am going to start with the C. S. Lewis science fiction trilogy as a single review.

Out of the Silent Planet was interesting and very worth the read, I think. In it, our hero Ransom is kidnapped by a former classmate (Devine) working with a renowned physicist (Weston) after he stumbles over them at a remote country estate. They take him aboard their spaceship bound for a second trip to Mars to fulfill the potentially sinister demands of the Martians (or Malacandrans, since they call the planet Malacandra). The speculative science is quite imaginative--the descriptions of the spaceship and its operation, the reaches of space, life on another planet with a different gravity, the psychology of kinship and xenophobia when confronted with the other, and Martian geography based on the best available information and hypotheses of the day (first published in the 1930s). The critique of attitudes of superiority derived from technological advancement, the pursuit of knowledge and wealth, and desire for conquest and colonization is spot on and at times hilarious. The arrogant pretensions of the men of science who refuse to see Martian society as anything other than superstitious, backwards savages hearken to colonial attitudes in our own history. Ransom feels ashamed of our history and society and general lack of morality and tries to hide the dark side of humanity from Malacandrans. The religious themes build from the first hints in the descriptions of space as filled with unearthly (celestial!) radiance rather than a barren nothingness to a complex, peaceful society of several species guided by unseen messengers to the final denouement of the scientists and their vanquishing by powers they cannot perceive or credit. The final speeches of the supreme being on Malacandra point toward the sequels in the trilogy. The title of the book refers to Earth, known as the Silent Planet to the rest of the cosmos when its supernatural guide became "bent" and was ultimately exiled (along with its planet) from the celestial plane. Hence our lost, immoral society and history filled with atrocities.

Perelandra I liked least of the three stories. The narrator is an unnamed friend of Ransom and the story is presented in the same fashion as The Time Machine by H. G. Wells--a sort of before and after snapshot of the hero on his mysterious journey as witnessed by the narrator, with the journey then being told from beginning to end (note: he acknowledges the influence of H. G. Wells in an introductory note to the first book). This time the religious themes were central and overpowering and, by the end, obnoxious. The most hysterical part of the book was the preface, which stated that all characters in the book are fictitious and not at all allegorical, no sir. I can only assume this protest was directed to critic and friend J. R. R. Tolkein. This time Ransom is transported magically by the supernatural powers he encountered in the first book to Venus (or Perelandra). Perelandra is a newer world, just as Mars was far older than Earth, its history almost at its end, a perfect floating garden world of new and innocent life with the first Man (missing until the end) and first Woman. Ransom meets the first Woman and is soon joined by Weston who travels by spaceship. It is the story of Eden anew, with Weston possessed by the Devil, come to tempt the Woman to break the only rule, and Ransom representing the forces of good to keep her on the true path. This book was all about superlatives--the fruits were the tastiest ever, the scents the most intoxicating ever, the birdsong the most haunting ever--you get the idea. The only things I really liked about this book in the end were the descriptions of the floating islands on a water world and a single line about the nature of love.

**SPOILER ALERT**
The Devil speaks to the Queen incessantly, laying siege to her reason and her emotions with so many arguments and stories to convince her to break that one rule to prove her independence and free will, just as the Creator really wants, and somehow Ransom cannot find the flaws in the arguments or otherwise counter the Devil. What gets me is that the Devil is going around killing and maiming all the plants and animals within reach every time her back is turned, so she never sees his evil actions firsthand, but still the evidence must be lying around to be tripped over. The animals must be learning fear, another source of indirect evidence. And yet the Queen never figures it out and Ransom never appears to point it out. Instead, he decides the only way to vanquish evil is to kill it. So they have a titanic struggle one day when the Queen is sleeping, here there, and everywhere. He ultimately wins, but then must struggle his way back to the surface from the pit of darkness where he ended up (not subtle, is it?). And when he gets out he finds the King and Queen and the supernatural powers of Mars and Venus waiting to congratulate him on saving Venus for the proper dawning of a new age. And then there's a pages long sermon, after which Ransom gets back into his capsule and is shipped back to Earth. I take issue with the basic premise that killing is the solution to a fundamental problem, that dialogue or guided personal experience accomplish nothing. And the pages and pages of religious exposition about the divine plan and how every species and everyone is both central and not central presented as some sort of communal soliloquy--yuck. That is not something that carries forward the plot of a novel and the quotation marks don't make it dialogue.

That Hideous Strength takes place back on Earth. This the story of the final battle between good and evil happening under everyone's noses in the guise of the new research institute N.I.C.E. (National Institute for Coordinated Experiments). Ransom and Devine do eventually appear with new names later in the book. The former is easy to figure out, the latter must be explained to us. The protagonists are a young, newly married couple: Jane and Mark Studdock. She is a housewife who thinks she's going to finish her dissertation; he's a young faculty member at a small college. The description of politics in academia is great, and doubtless quite true to life minus the sinister activities of the evil organization masquerading as progress. Actually, this could make a good movie, because the people and conversations and activities at N.I.C.E. are a cross between Jacob's Ladder and The Firm (by John Grisham), or perhaps The Devil's Advocate (the one with Al Pacino). Lewis ties this into the Arthurian legends with the resurrection of Merlin, whom both sides are seeking. I think this story is generally well done and is a fairly convincing presentation of two people who can't accept what's happening to them as part of a rational world, but who also aren't honest with themselves or each other about their motivations and fears. The descriptions of evil intentions masquerading as social progress (or social engineering) in this novel are chilling reminders of the rhetoric of infamous regimes in real life. And the subtle, apparently harmless mechanisms designed to corrupt Mark Studdock are also interesting. So in general, I liked this story. The one point that really annoyed me was Merlin condemning Jane Studdock for failing to conceive the savior, because that really was her purpose in the final battle, after all, to get pregnant at the appointed time. Really. But still an interesting story.

No problem, Chris.

Dark Matter sounds very interesting; I'll have to check that out.

Chris, you have got to catch up on reviews! You have some great books in your list that I want your reaction to. Like Devil's Cub (did you read These Old Shades first?), Tad Williams, and the Mrs. Pollifax books. Have you ever read The Clairvoyant Countess by Dorothy Gilman? It's my favorite of hers.

What, you mean I didn't already review Devil's Cub? I had to look at the list to figure out where it was in the scheme of things. Next, I guess. I'll try to knock out one a night as long as I can. I read These Old Shades last year and enjoyed it tremendously. The dialogue and mannerisms were just so. I have read The Clairvoyant Countess and only recently figured out there was a sequel--I think from scanning your library, ronincats.

Well, after taking care of some LT housekeeping, I am ready to write another review. Devil's Cub is another historical romance by Georgette Heyer. It revisits the Alistair family, this time the offspring of the protagonists in These Old Shades. Our hero the Marquis of Vidal is arrogant and reckless and forced to flee the country by his formidable father after the scandal of a duel with near-fatal results. But he wants company in his exile, so he arranges an elopement of sorts with the bourgeoise beauty he has been trying to seduce. Instead, her virtuous sister Mary foils the plot by taking her place. When the trick is discovered, Vidal kidnaps her and carries her to France with him. Then he realizes his mistake and insists on making right. Chaos ensues once the other Alistairs get involved--Vidal's cousin and her swain, his uncle Rupert, and his parents. It's entertaining, but I didn't find the hero very attractive. He's young, rich, and spoiled, and even trying to do the right thing he's coercive. I suppose all of that is to show his masterful masculinity. The many characters and the dialogue are generally entertaining, and it is a fast read, as are most of Heyer's novels.

I adored Vidal when I first read the book in my 20's, but as I've grown older, have to agree with you on his character. On the other hand, I like Mary as a heroine very well, and love the way Heyer put her together with Julieta to create a contrast. And Vidal has never had the chance to learn to do things differently--he IS a product of his upbringing and we can't expect him to magically overcome it. But probably my favorite part is the way that Leonie and Rupert reprise their original dash across the channel and France (Why Dijon?), the port, and how Avon confronts Vidal at the end. Make that favorite PARTS, I guess.

Yes, the bits with Leonie and Rupert are quite entertaining. And I can't say that I disliked the book. Certainly Mary recognized all of the faults of Vidal and decided he was worth having anyway, but she was clearly interested in managing/mothering him to some degree. But who am I to criticize others' taste in men, however fictional.

I'll review The Mirror of Her Dreams and A Man Rides Through by Stephen R. Donaldson together, since the first ends on a cliffhanger and the second picks up directly from there.

I read these years and years ago and generally liked them. I had a chance to pick up the first book on super discount and swiped my querido's copy of the second, so now I have the set in my library. The only other Donaldson I've read is Daughter of Regals. According to my querido, those three books are the only ones worth reading. Of course the Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever books were all over the bookstores for decades, but they never looked interesting enough to actually read.

Anyway, this is the story of Terisa and Geraden. She's in a meaningless life in New York living in an apartment full of mirrors (to reassure her of her own existence) when Geraden arrives through the mirror to ask her to help save his world. He comes from Mordant where mirrors are magical portals, but unknown enemies threaten the kingdom and the old king is ineffective and his chief advisor is insane. It's a classic fantasy adventure with plots, counterplots, plot twists, swordfights, chases, secret passages and secret plans, seduction and romance, magical attacks, and more.

I think the story is quite imaginative and character driven. It explores the morality of magic and power to some degree, and the nature of human relationships. Most of the characters are quite likeable in their separate ways: the king, the princesses, several of the Imagers (who make and use the mirrors), Geraden's family, the prince from the neighboring kingdom, guardsmen. But sometimes I just wanted to kick Terisa for her stupid existential angst and her stupidity in trusting the wrong people in the face of accumulating evidence. I understand why the author developed her the way he did--it was essential to the story--but couldn't he have done it without so much internal monologue, which made the story drag in places? Most of that was in the first book where Terisa is trying to understand what is happening and what her role is. At the end of it she has figured things out and declared herself. The second book is just a straightforward quest to defeat the enemies now revealed as the myriad characters who have a role in the outcome come together. They even have the chance to revisit New York so that she can confront her past (a childhood of neglect and emotional abuse) and put it to bed before getting on with her new, fulfilled, adult life as a survivor. And of course the traits that display her apparent weakness and victimhood turn into her strengths by the end. Certainly it is a story with many positive messages and it all works out in the end. What more can you ask for in a fantasy?

A while ago on a quick visit to my mom's, I raided the book boxes in the garage and brought a handful of romances home with me. Beth by Barbara Hazard was the first one. It seemed familiar, so I may have read it decades ago in my youth, and doubtless I liked it back then. This time, though, it was quite flat and disappointing. To make any sort of sense of this story (or at least something resembling logic in the author's decisions) I am going to deconstruct it.

SPOILER ALERT (for anyone who might remotely care):
Hypothetical Decision 1: My guess is that the author started with the climactic scene, our heroine Beth being swept off her feet in the middle of a ball and carried away--the epitome of purple passion. But it's a Regency romance and people just don't do that. So who would? Obviously some sort of uncivilized savage; enter the Indian (read Native American) servant of our hero (I can't remember his name now, and I already returned the book, but he's a duke). It's very convenient that master and servant look alike, except for skin tone of course, and that it's a costume ball.

Hypothetical Decision 2: The hero and heroine are both fine, upstanding, smart, well-educated, caring, forthright, honest people, so why would the servant need to come and carry off the recalcitrant heroine thus leading to the most dreamy, romantical scene ever (snark)? Well, for some reason Beth must be very angry with the duke, which makes her very, very stupid and contrary and difficult, so very unlike her usual self, and thus she is the person standing in the way of the culmination of their romance. What would be the most dramatic reason for her ongoing hissy fit? He's a secret government agent, doesn't that make him ubersexy? For the sake of fairness, he had to treat her as a suspect along with the rest when super-secret documents went missing. And it turns out she was responsible for the papers going astray, so she feels a little guilty and embarrassed on top of it. There, that's why she's an idiot.

Decision Number 3: Well how would he be in a position to lose secret papers anyway? Enter the blizzard. Obviously he got stranded with an inn full of strangers for several days thanks to the weather. It's a timeworn plot device of many a romance and mystery novel and it serves its purpose here. People who would otherwise never cross paths are forced to socialize for days, cut off from the outside world.

Decision 4: The hero and heroine need a reason to shine so that they can fall in love under these unusual circumstances, so we need some adversity. The author pulls together a random assortment of travelers: the minister and his daughter (our heroine Beth), the duke of course, the handsome and rich twin brothers who are heirs to an earldom, and an overbearing social-climbing mother with her beautiful wigeon daughter. There's also the staff of the inn who have some minor dialogue. All of the tension is provided by the mother and daughter couple. Everyone else is quite nice and well-mannered to boot, well not really the duke, but that's part
of his manly charm and ducal privilege. The only unattractive person is also the only truly not nice character. Who knew that being obese was an obvious sign of character flaws? The pretentious mother is fat and demanding and complaining and a real boaster. The rest of the travelers bond over fat jokes behind her back. Beth has the opportunity to show her true nobility of spirit when she offers to share her room with the daughter when the mother insists that sharing is beneath her consequence, and even more so when she gets pushed down the stairs and suffers a sprained ankle (another timeworn plot device that gives couples time to bond) and forebears to accuse anyone. Similarly, the duke has the opportunity to appear masterful in more than one crisis.

Decision 5: So now we've worked from the climax to the starting point, but there's a few holes. Wouldn't Beth's reputation be ruined, her an unmarried girl carried off by an unrelated male in front of scores of witnesses? Needed, deus ex machina (part 2, the Indian is the first): enter all-knowing grandmother. When Beth and her father finally arrive in London. she perceives instantly that Beth is in love, thus demonstrating the eternal wisdom of older women when it comes to relationships. And she advises the duke in his belated proper courtship, but to no avail thanks to the hasty tempers of lovers. So she makes all of the appropriate excuses at the ball and saves the day.

Sure, there's a few other details, but those are the key points of the story. Overall--no character development, just some caricatures and unoriginal types to provide the appropriate foils and move the predictable plot forward. We never find out anything about any of the people staying at the inn, such as their reasons for traveling in the first place, beyond the duke and his government mission, of course. The best we get is that Beth's father is going to talk to the bishop. They're all just plopped down out of nowhere and once they've served their purpose they disappear immediately, including Beth's father. There might have been one or two good lines in the dialogue, but it was generally uninspired.

I was troubled not only by the one overweight person being the closest to a villain, but also by the near assault (date rape, anyone?) by the more clueless of the twin brothers when he manages to finagle an assignation with the beautiful wigeon in a deserted part of the inn (really, in such a small place where there are no private parlors available to the guests, how do they manage a deserted room?). In addition to everyone putting up with the awful mother, the smarter brother kept trying to keep his brother away from the beauty and her mother tried to throw them together. Mother and daughter are thinking marriage opportunities, and brother is thinking dalliance. The two moths to the flame get together and things get out of hand. She in her naivete didn't expect more than a couple of stolen kisses and a proposal, so when he gets sexually aggressive, she panics and screams, bringing everyone down on them--classic entrapment scene in period romances by unscrupulous women (or fortune-hunting men, for that matter, though they tend to kidnap/carry off). Mother demands justice (or whatever) for her poor daughter. The boy is shocked, shocked, that they could seriously believe marriage to be an option, after all, she's just not suitable. But they are respectable and he's in a pickle until the duke steps in and argues his case, leaving mother and daughter humiliated. Yay, upper class solidarity! It's all okay because they weren't nice people, and let's not look too closely at the boy's privilege and assumptions. After all, he was just acting the way he's expected to act as the scion of an aristocratic family. Boys will be boys. It's all part of the building up the noble and masterful characters of the hero and heroine. Sigh. Very disappointing.

Maybe I've lost my taste for romance. Say it ain't so. I can't read nonfiction all the time. It doesn't unwind me, quite the reverse.

The next book swiped from my mom's stash was Plain Jane by Marian Chesney. It was the second of a series ("A House for the Season") set at a particular London address. I've read other books by Chesney and thought they were okay, and the underlying idea for the series is kind of interesting, but it made for a very, very bizarre romance. Or maybe this is intended to be satire?

The idea for the series allows for background characters to carry over from book to book, to wit, the servants of the house. The back cover implies that the servants will help our heroine Jane find love with the man of her dreams, her all unsuspecting of their aid. If I thought the previous book rather shallow and contrived, this one was far beyond that--bizarre as I said. The novel switches between the romance storyline and the miserable servants storyline, which makes for rather uncomfortable and awkward narrative shifts. All of the characters in this book are caricatures and beyond. London is filled with evil, mean, ungenerous people, except for the heroine, the hero and his friend, and the servants. Everyone else that comes into the story is just horrible. Very Dickensian in some ways.

Anyway, the poor, downtrodden servants are forced to stay at this address thanks to blackmail by the unscrupulous business agent who manages the property and pockets the funds, so they can't even buy coal for heat in the winter. And they're starving! The book opens with these kind, wretched souls inadvertently stealing or poaching out of sheer desperation and indignation. But they are a family bonded together by hardship.

Jane, the eponymous heroine, is the sister of a self-centered beauty (of course) and a stingy mother who plays favorites. She's like Cinderella--cast into the shade, forced to live with the scraps handed down begrudgingly by her sister and mother. Her father, once a proud naval captain has lived in henpecked silence for years. The mother is ambitious and decides that the beauty could rope in a rich, aristocratic suitor, if only she had the opportunity for a London season, which they can manage thanks to the improbably low rent of a certain house for rent. They bring Jane along unwillingly, and in her loneliness and neglect, she befriends the servants. From them, she learns about the mysterious death in a nearby park of the first young lady whose family rented the premises a few years back and the mysterious honeymoon disappearance of the second young lady and her groom (presumably the protagonists of the first book of the series) while traveling abroad.

Once again, I've forgotten the hero's name, but he is super manly. Jane once saw him years ago in the boxing ring challenging a famous champion when she snuck out to see a prizefight. So he's a great sportsman, and handsome, and rich. She's secretly loved him since that illicit spectacle. For some reason, he shows up at the party her family throws, and to annoy the mother, the butler makes sure that the hero meets Jane rather than her lovely sister (he also spikes the punch in retaliation against the mother and the whole thing devolves into a drunken brawl).

Out of pity perhaps, the hero keeps meeting Jane and agrees to humor her by helping investigate the mysterious death of that girl in the park. Sure enough, soon Jane has one or two near-fatal experiences that everyone dismisses as attention seeking. But then the hero and Jane's father and the newly hired French maid disappear in the middle of a dinner at the house one night. Of course, it all turns out well in the end. The murderer is apprehdended (thanks to intrepid Jane's trap with herself as bait), the lovers are reunited, the season ends. The servants go back to their suffering; the mother and beautiful daughter are frustrated in their ambitions; the father decides to put overbearing mother in her place. I'm glossing over the romantic subplots among the servants.

There's no real motive for the hero to fall in love with Jane, and there's no real romantic progression. First pity, then preoccupation with the naval father who turns out to have been a hero during Nelson's day, then suddenly, for no apparent reason, he loves Jane. The story didn't flow, it just jumped around rather illogically and showed how mean and stupid everyone was other than the romantic couple and the servants (and the father and French maid--whose actions are completely inexplicable, in the end). At least Beth had some dialogue that showed the protagonists getting to know each other and learning to admire and love each other, and the supporting characters were unremarkable and nice (with the exception of the overbearing mother again). Chesney's other stories were certainly better than this. So another big disappointment.

#104: I think I will skip that one. I hope your next read is an improvement for you, Chris!

@105: Thank you for the kind wishes. I am just reminded that mine and my mom's tastes have diverged greatly over the years. I don't care for most of the science fiction and fantasy she acquires nowadays. Also, I obviously need to write my reviews in a more timely fashion, because this is another book I've already returned and forgotten the names of the characters. Amazon to the rescue.

Next on the list is The Village Spinster by Laura Matthews. While this one was an improvement over Plain Jane by Marion Chesney and Beth by Barbara Hazard, it was disappointing (again with the frown!) in comparison to her other works. I like The Seventh Suitor a great deal (definitely in my top ten Regency romance list), and Holiday in Bath is charming. This story does have its moments, though, and is a bit of a romp. Our heroine Clarissa Driscoll has come down in the world. In the wake of her late father's gambling debts (to the neighboring landowner and father of our hero), she is forced to leave the fine family manor and take up residence in a local village cottage. She supports herself in large part by giving lessons to the younger half-siblings and wards of the current Earl of Kinsford, our hero. As a lady by breeding and training, she has all of the necessary accomplishments to rely on: dancing, drawing, music, etc. The brother and sister are teenagers with little parental supervision since their mother is a shut in hypochondriac and their older brother is too busy with his political career in London, so they get into some trouble. The Earl of Kinsford comes home and immediately butts head with Clarissa, since he feels she's meddling and maybe even coddling his wards.

The romance basically consists of pissing matches between the two of them as the earl tries to exert his authority and the spinster dances between asserting herself and not offending the person who is essentially her patron. There is an obligatory sprained ankle and concussion (of his half-sister) that forces them to keep interacting with each other, as the injured girl cannot be moved for a few days after the accident, and guess whose cottage was closest. Moreover, the girl decides to play matchmaker and hams up her head injury to keep them interacting. Throw in a distant (married) male cousin who keeps dropping by to visit Clarissa and consequent jealousy of Kinsford, combined with residual guilt that her current impoverishment is the result of his father's actions, and this book is all about negative emotions and fiery dialogue. I must say the climactic scene is hilarious, with every character in the story (a total of 8) ending up in the cottage together for a variety of reasons. The dialogue was well-written, even if the characters were annoying, and the pace certainly moved along. Overall, an okay read but not a keeper.

My mother and I are the same way - tastes diverging as we got older. I like romantic suspense, suspense, thrillers, etc. while my mother is more romance and cozy mystery minded. Although I still enjoy the occasional cozy, I tend to read other things before them these days.

@107: Stasia, thank you for continuing to visit and comment. It's funny how tastes change over time, in so many different ways. My mom and I read the same general fiction genres: romance, mystery, science fiction, fantasy, but the particulars are so very different nowadays. We don't have the same tastes in tea either, so I need to bring my own when I visit, even though she has a whole cabinet. And so on.

I'm going to wait and see if the thunderstorm passes in a reasonable timeframe before spending any more time on the computer tonight. I was gone all weekend again, which makes it hard to stay on top of book reviews and other online activities...

#108: I almost afraid to get rid of any books for fear that my tastes will change again and I would want them back! lol

BTW, I am another tea drinker, so I understand how that goes, too.

Yes, I go through collect and purge phases. I develop some very funny notions for awhile as part of that process, and later wonder what I was thinking. For awhile I thought that if an author was worth keeping in my library, I should have all of his or her works. But then I would get annoyed with the disappointments cluttering my shelves and dump everything. That's what happened with my Anne McCaffrey and Piers Anthony books. I followed a similar line of illogic with respect to series--isn't it wrong to possess only part of a series, even if it's the only part I consider any good? That would be the Sector General series by James White and the Diadem from the Stars series and its many spin-offs by Jo Clayton and the Xanth series by Piers Anthony. And then there was the time I decided to get rid of all the romances that involved some sort of villain character as just too hackneyed a plot device. That's why I disposed of The Black Moth years ago, among several others.

Mostly I've lived with my decisions. I may steal some back from my mom after dumping them on her in the last couple of years, such as the Dragonsinger trilogy. I have replaced a very few items after missing them too much. Thus I reacquired Winter's Tale by Mark Helprin, though I have not reread it since it returned to my library, and Spaceling by Doris Piserchia.

Finally, a positive review! Miss Chartley's Guided Tour by Carla Kelly was a charming romance. It is unusual in several ways. First, it isn't about two strangers meeting and eventually falling in love. It is about lovers estranged by tragedy and lack of communication for eight years (she was left standing bewildered at the altar as he secretly fled some horrible situation involving a lot of blood on his clothes) reunited by circumstance and forced to confront both the past and the present. Clearly, Omega Chartley and Matthew Bering both still love each other, but she is justifiably angry and he is filled with shame and they need to work together in the current crisis.

What crisis you ask? That brings us to the second interesting feature. Children! I have a soft spot for stories that involve children, as long as they are reasonably portrayed. In this case, a runaway boy fleeing an abusive uncle. He's seeking his other uncle, and Omega Chartley befriends him during her leisurely travel from one teaching position to another. But wait, they runaway boy, who is clearly from a well-to-do family, is being hunted by Bow Street! Our heroine runs afoul of the Runner trying to help the boy and finds herself a penniless fugitive alongside the waif.

And so the third interesting feature is that this story occurs on the byways of England more than soirees and house parties of the ton. I like stories that show some of the rarely seen aspects of life in the period. In this case, some of the hardships of veterans and orphans of the war, as well as the seamier side of London and the economic concerns of rural villages. Does this book go into any significant or realistic detail on any of these? No, but it does provide a shadow of a taste without the bitterness or much of the ugliness.

The weaknesses: a dastardly villain, of course, whose machinations caused all of the heartbreak and pain (yawn); the extremely tidy and rather unrealistic happy ending for everyone involved, except the villain; yet another sprained ankle forcing the lovers to deal with each other rather than run away; the rather saccharine nature of our hero and heroine and the Bow Street Runner who turns out to be a good guy after all. If I dislike everyone in the novel except the protagonists being a mean, terrible person, I like the exact reverse situation only a little less. After all, we all have our weaknesses and dark side, and pretending otherwise does not make for such a satisfying story. I like some fiber to go along with my sugar sometimes. The strengths: the characters are engaging if not particularly deep, the dialogue is often snappy, the story tackles the difficult topics of love and betrayal and forgiveness, and there's quite a bit of humor, particularly around the reunion of the lovers and the subsequent bloody nose and black eye. Good humor can make up for a lot. So this book is a keeper, for now.

Well, I am glad you finally ran into a book you enjoyed!

I am finally climbing out of a pit. From here on out, the books that I am reviewing retrospectively have been varying degrees of interesting and pleasant. Next on the list is a nonfiction item that I requested through ILL. It also reminded me about the other nonfiction ILL item that I neglected to add to my list earlier. I don't read as much nonfiction as I would like or should because when I get home and I'm tired, I just want to unwind. Nonfiction too often winds me up or puts me completely to sleep, and I just don't seem to find the time to engage my mind with nonfiction. Excuses, excuses. The benefit of ILL is a deadline.

Female Attire of Medieval Egypt is Yedida Kalfon Stillman's dissertation. She was the first (only??) female grad student of Professor Goiten (who wrote the six-volume A Mediterranean Society). Both of them used the extensive records retrieved from the Cairo Geniza as the basis of their scholarship. While Goitein wrote a comprehensive overview of just about every aspect of Sephardic society in medieval Cairo, Stillman concentrated specifically on women and their clothing. She was the first serious scholar to study women's textiles in Islamic society and thus elevate this topic to academic respectability. This dissertation and her subsequent survey book, Arab Dress, are two of the most widely cited sources in the field of Islamic costume and textile research. The dissertation provides a comprehensive list of clothing and textiles appearing in the trousseau lists in terms of terminology, fabrics, embellishment, construction, usage, etc. The clothing is organized into general categories (tunic, headgear, etc.), and then the terms are presented alphabetically. For garments that appear extensively in the source materials, Stillman provides tables that provide details for each instance so that the reader can get a clear sense of colors, types of adornment (embroidery, contrasting fabric, fringes, gilding, etc.), fabrics, and so on. Some terms are well understood, but many others remain ambiguous, and Stillman discusses what is known and guessed in these cases, using supporting evidence from textual sources.

It's a good starting point for costume research: information dense, very specific about the exact sources used for each item, and rather short on prose, which is not surprisingly rather dry.

Sounds fascinating... I'll have to have a look for both of Stillman's works.

@114: Faith, I suspect you and I are among a handful of people interested in this area of research. I believe you also expressed interest when I listed it on the "What We Are Reading: Nonfiction" thread.

Both the dissertation and the book are difficult to access. I can't remember whether the dissertation came from overseas, or just the other end of the continent. A friend later found a site that would download a digital copy of the dissertation for $62. It might be worth it if it were searchable for keywords. The book is out of print and retailing for over $100 from various online booksellers. I did eventually find a free electronic version that I downloaded, but I don't remember the source at this time. I was very thankful, though. I was agonizing about spending that much money for a book, most of which was outside the scope of my interests.

The book is far more ambitious, trying to cover both men's and women's clothing from pre-Islamic origins to the modern era. Because it is so very broad, it is necessarily less specific, more prone to errors, and does not work quite as closely with original source materials. Also, I believe the book was finished posthumously by her husband who also edited it, which can only compound these issues. A couple of different people I talked to pointed toward problems and inaccuracies in the chapters covering their particular specialties. But this book is the starting point and again filled with hundreds of specific costume and textile terms.

Ceremonial and Art at the Umayyad Court by Oleg Grabar is the other dissertation that I requested from ILL this year. It was interesting, but not quite as directly useful as Female Attire of Medieval Egypt to my personal research projects.

Oleg Grabar analyzes the architectural elements and decorative motifs of several desert palaces constructed in the 8th-9th centuries during the Umayyad caliphate centered in Damascus. Using this direct archaeological evidence along with some supporting textual sources, he argues that the Umayyad caliphs were consciously trying to create a royal identity and tradition, synthesizing both western Romano-Byzantine and eastern influences, particularly Sasanian Persian but extending to India. Moreover, he believes that many features associated with the subsequent Abbasid dynasty, in fact, had their origins during the Umayyad period and that the creation of a more or less universal Islamic identity and culture was a process carried through more than one dynastic period as a sort of organic development without the profound breaks with past traditions posited by other scholars.

I've had a hard time finding information on these desert palaces and their paintings, statuary, and other artifacts that can shed some light on costumes. Admittedly, all of the women portrayed are doubtless slaves, but we have to start somewhere. He provides some detailed descriptions for three of the sites in particular and discusses another handful. It is scholarly discourse at its best/worst, with extensive untranslated quotes in various languages, building sequences of arguments and their supporting evidence, exercises in logic ruling out alternative explanations, extensive footnotes, and so on. Sadly, the plates of images are useless, since the copy that I had was some sort of photocopy or mimeograph of the original. But I learned some interesting things about some of the iconography, the names of some additional sites besides Khirbat al-Mafjar, and some of the ceremonies involved in royal courts. So the dissertation was interesting, and I ended up with about three pages of notes, but of relatively limited direct use in terms of costume research.

The next book to review is Affair by Amanda Quick. This is my first foray into this author's works. It is not one of the books recommended by cauterize, but it was one that was readily available on the library shelves.

I have displayed my bias before regarding historical romances written by the most recent authors, and I am afraid that this novel has some of the traits that I have complained of previously. However, it is an entertaining romp, an interesting blend of murder mystery and romance.

The downsides: extremely purple prose (she actually uses the term "soul mate"); an exotic, evil supervillain who apparently constructs a fantastical mechanical trap for our hero among various other nefarious plots; yet another heroine who is willing to risk her good name and ability to continue existing (and supporting herself, though she barely seems to grasp this reality) in respectable society for the sake of illicit sex (by society's standards, since she's unmarried) with someone she barely knows; flat, cliched characters; and highly predictable yet unrealistic plot (the epitome of escapism, I guess). Amanda Quick's style apparently involves picking a metaphor and running with it. In this case, it was alchemy. So she missed no opportunity to describe the personal chemistry between the protagonists in terms of alchemy, gold, hot metal, etc. It's all part of the purpleness. And her happily ever after ending is a little too pat and ignores the longevity of problems in human relationships. Our hero Baxter is the oldest, but illegitimate, son of the late Earl of Esherton, executor of the estate and financial trustee for his younger, legitimate brother the new earl. Not surprisingly, the half-brother resents and distrusts his older brother and expects him to steal his fortune or otherwise make trouble. So after surviving the harrowing plots of the villain by working together, suddenly all is forgotten and now the young earl looks up to his chemist brother? One crisis and years of family troubles just vanish? Really.

The upsides: the author does appear to have some feeling for the era; the dialogue is amusing and fast-paced for the most part; the sex scenes are varied, generally well done, and not too gratuitous; the story explores the difficulties of single women (our heroine and others in the story) and illegitimate offspring (our hero and others) who were often powerless and unacknowledged in the society of the day; the heroine Charlotte is a strong female character; both protagonists are drawn sympathetically and somewhat realistically.

This one isn't a keeper, but it's not a total bomb either. I will try another book by this author. If nothing else, her books would be good airplane or beach fare, not that I am flying much anymore or near a coast.

#117: Amanda Quick is one of my guilty pleasures (under just about all of her pseudonyms, lol).

@118: Stasia, I have many guilty pleasures; the worst is rereading some books over and over rather than facing the time commitment of new books. The one Amanda Quick book was entertaining and far from the worst I've read. She may grow on me.

I'll move on to Mrs. Pollifax, though. I have most of Dorothy Gilman's stories. I first stumbled across this author and this character passing behind the college bookstore as an undergraduate and espying a box of paperbacks lacking their front covers, obvious discards. On that day I picked up The Elusive Mrs. Pollifax and A Palm for Mrs. Pollifax, which I still have. I was immediately hooked and gradually added to my collection as the series grew over time. These definitely fall into the easy comfort read category for me, which is why I reread three of them in a row.

The Amazing Mrs. Pollifax is the second in the series, and a rather late discovery for me. It wasn't until I was rereading a later book in which Emily is enjoying letters and postcards from people she met on past CIA missions that I realized there was a gap in my knowledge. In this case, a letter from Colin Ramsay and wife, whom she meets in this story (and who meet each other). Like all of her other stories, this one is a fairly action-packed, breezy, positive adventure. Emily Pollifax is a nice, unassuming grandmotherly figure who relies largely on her judgment of character and chance (but always essential to the plot) acquaintances to achieve her missions. Once again, her job is to act as courier, delivering passport and other essential items to a fugitive double agent who made international news by appearing and then disappearing from the British Embassy in Istanbul. During the flight to Turkey, she meets an interesting young lady who asks her to check in on Colin Ramsay, the black sheep of the family. The job isn't so simple after all, and Emily and party become fugitives across the length of Turkey against the odds. This is the book where Mrs. Pollifax meets the Gypsy queen (Dorothy Gilman definitely has a thing for gypsies and the paranormal). She is also held prisoner by the bad guys at least once.

As always, events proceed unpredictably from the viewpoint of her CIA supervisors back in Virginia, but rather predictably from the reader's perspective. Of course that apparently random person turns out to be important, of course it all ends happily ever after, and of course Emily pulls miracles out of her elaborate hat after her bosses give her up for dead again. All of this is standard for Mrs. Pollifax stories, which are essentially G-rated action stories about spies as nice guys, where young and unattached straight people settle down and live happily ever after once the crisis is past. These stories are light and fluffy and feel-good and would make great movies, except for the fact that Hollywood doesn't give lead roles to gray-haired women, particularly for action movies.

Later in the series, the titles begin to reflect geography so that us poor readers don't start confusing the books too much. What's the difference between the Elusive and the Unexpected again? Mrs. Pollifax on the China Station involves much more than a courier job. Mrs. Pollifax and another agent are undercover on a rare expedition to western China. The other agent is to go AWOL and extract a political prisoner from a remote labor camp and help him escape across the border. The tour is the means to get the agent in the vicinity, and Mrs. Pollifax is to provide additional cover, as well as making sure the actual American tourists manage to leave the country in the wake of possibly dangerous events. In this case, Emily Pollifax is the experienced agent, and the other is on a first mission (talk about jumping in the deep end of the pool). This is the book where Mrs. Pollifax kills someone and is herself injured. Once again Emily takes a chance on someone, and once again, a nice happy ending for a couple who meet during the story, and once again the authorities aren't nearly as harsh as in the real world. The Chinese police let her go, really, after such a story full of holes and at least one body lying around?

Mrs. Pollifax and the Whirling Dervish takes place in Morocco. This time, her job is to courier photos of informants to the local operative who will verify their identities, since it is clear there is a leak somewhere. But Emily and the local agent do not hit it off. Once again, dead bodies, prisoners of the bad guys, fugitives, given up as dead, etc. This time there's a little bit of torture for our plucky heroine. And once again she turns out to be the experienced operative giving advice. No marriages that I can think of in this story, but she does facilitate other sorts of connections, in this case between a Sufi holy man and a new disciple. Mr. Mornajay plays a key role in this story, after he appeared for the first time in Mrs. Pollifax and the Golden Triangle.

I haven't read any of the Mrs Polifax books. Mrs. Polifax and the Whirling Dervish sounds interesting. Is this a series that you need to read from the beginning to follow?

I love the Mrs. Pollifax books. When my girls were younger, I actually used them to teach the girls geography. It was a fun way for them to learn while listening to the audiobooks.

@120: Kelly, each story is sufficient unto itself. However, I think the reader has a greater appreciation of the details if the series is read in order, and some of the secondary characters appear in later books. So you can be methodical or take advantage of what's available.

@121: Stasia, yes this is certainly an easy and entertaining way to learn some world geography. How did you like the audiobook versions? I don't have much experience with audiobooks, but recently have been greatly enjoying the Amelia Peabody books by Elizabeth Peters at the behest of a friend.

Ahhh..........I only just found your thread.

Whilst I doubt I will ever have the energy to read through all your posts, I will be reading from now on :)

#122: I really enjoyed the audio versions of the Pollifax books. I got mine from Recorded Books, narrated by the highly talented Barbara Rosenblat. There may be other recordings of them available that I am not aware of, but nobody tops Rosenblat in my book. She also does the Peabody books, which was how I originally discovered her.

@123: Welcome, lunacat. It shouldn't be hard to keep up from here. I may be verbose, but not particularly prolific. I am rather backlogged and not catching up anytime soon.

@124: Stasia, I agree about Rosenblat. She was fabulous in Curse of the Pharoahs. I think I counted five different accents, not to mention the mannerisms and intonations of many more characters total. She is exactly the reason my friend requested that I acquire these audiobooks for her.

I'm afraid no reviews for a few days. Going camping on vacation for a week or so...

Chris, Elizabeth Peters specifically chose Barbara Rosenblat as the narrator for her books (Rosenblat also does Peters' Vicky Bliss series as well). The first time I listened to one of the Peabody books, I was convinced that there were multiple narrators and kept looking at the box to find the other names :)

Have a lovely camping trip!

Hey Chris, just catching up on your thread. I thoroughly enjoyed reading every bit of your comprehensive reviews and detailed thoughts. The Dark Matter book sounds great because it is one of those "stretching boundaries" type of books. I like hearing your motivations for why you pick up each and every book.

Since you were talking about diverging tastes with Moms, I thought I'd tell my story. My parents always encouraged me when I was young to read, bought me any book I wanted, but they barely read themselves. My mom didn't touch anything but magazines and my dad limited himself to Tennis and Golf books. My mom always said she read when she was young, but I never saw it when I was growing up. Since my parents have moved back to Calgary a year ago, and have bought a new house and we unloaded most of my books onto their built-in shelves (otherwise they wouldn't have any books) my Mom started picking up some of the romances I had recommended because their TV was so small. Now she's reading voraciously, even telling me she had to get off the phone with me so she could get back to her book (this was a few weeks ago). I was shocked, to say the least. Now, I find myself in the odd position of recommending to her what I think she'd like out of my collection! It will be interesting seeing if our tastes coincide or will they oppose? I'm pretty sure she'll be sticking to the fluff, though.

Re: the book about female medieval clothing in Egypt. That was an interesting facet to learn about you. Are you reading about the subject for purely personal research or is it partially professional? This year I felt awful that I'm not learning as much as I did in my University days (not too long ago) so I picked up a textbook about the daily life in Ancient Rome. I've been slowly working my way through for months. It's depressing me because if had been assigned by a course, I would have read it in a few weeks! Along with many others!

I'm glad you tried Amanda Quick, I would rate Affair as an average one. But yes, it's all about the HEA (Happily Ever After) with her, which is fine with me. Her books are what I'd term my "In Bed, right before I pass out" books. That's how I make my sleep so restful... with happy dreams of meet-cutes, lustful moments and unrealistic romance! ;)

#127: Steph, I call them my 'by the bed' books for the same reason, lol.

I wrote a response last night and then accidentally deleted it. I will see if I can recreate it now.

@126: Stasia, thank you for the kind wishes. It was a lovely vacation, though far too many hours sitting in a car. I didn't do much reading beyond the work materials I brought with me. I have to travel tomorrow as well, and will be bringing along the copied CDs to see how well they turned out before I mail them to my friend, so I will get to revisit Rosenblat's phenomenal work.

@127: Steph, great to hear from you! I was worried that life had you by the throat. It sounds like fostering your mother's burgeoning reading habit will be an interesting experience.

The costuming research is purely personal. I am a member of the SCA and desperately in need of a new wardrobe. Since I appear to be the only person concentrating on taifa period al-Andalus (11 c. Moorish Spain), I have to do the basic research myself, though I am drawing heavily on the work of costumers focusing on similar, related cultures.

I know what you mean about kicking yourself for not keeping up your education and reading more nonfiction. Most of my library consists of nonfiction waiting to be read, not to mention most of my TBR pile, but I'm never quite in the mood for self-improvement/learning/mentally stimulating reading material. Maybe it's because I am already so behind on the notetaking, data entry, following up on leads, etc. that always seem to be a necessary part of the process for books and articles I have read.

@127: I wish I could have books by authors like Amanda Quick as part of my bedside reading. Sadly, I lack self-discipline and end up staying awake until the wee hours inhaling so much cotton candy. So instead I rely on things like the Bible and Qur'an for bedtime reading to calm the thoughts and weight the eyes so I can sleep. Instead, the fluff is what I read over a meal, walking to work, etc.

I will try more Amanda Quick books, but I'm going through a phase where I feel like I should clear some of the TBR piles in my house before getting more books from the library.

The next book on the list is The Dragon Rises by Adrienne Martine-Barnes. I have no idea when or where I acquired this book, but it's been in my library for years and definitely counts as a favorite. I have never come across any other books by this author, though LT shows that she's written several books with Sword in the title, presumably a series. I believe they are inspired by early Celtic culture.

The Dragon Rises is a science fiction novel inspired by Celtic legends. Gilhame ur Fagon, the hero, is the admiral of a space fleet for the Kardus Temporal Empire who becomes, at the beginning of the story, the Dragon, an immortal personification of war. Martine-Barnes takes the common storytelling tropes of kingship, love, and betrayal (Camelot, anyone?) and makes them part of a cosmic pattern that eternally traps our hero and his fated love in this lifetime, Alvellaina Curly-Krispin.

It is space opera at its best (I think), exploring philosophy and metaphysics as much as intrigue and space battles. It is certainly interesting to see cultural elements that are more reminiscent of medieval feudal society in an interstellar civilization, which so often is portrayed in a more capitalistic, democratic, and humane (modern American?) model in many science fiction novels. There are dancing and dinner parties, imperial court etiquette and heraldry, tribunals and punishments that may fall upon the families in addition to the wrongdoers--becoming chattel in recompense for loss of life, say. This last in the mode of the great Irish mythological hero Cú Chulainn, who gained this name when he replaced Culann's guard dog after he killed it until a new one could be raised. Yes, it's light and fluffy without much actual science, but it's different and interesting and definitely a favorite.

The book with the most similar flavor to this novel is The Silent Stars Go By, written by James White (of Sector General fame). This is an alternate history science fiction story about the first human colonization project spearheaded by the Hibernian Empire, but involving all of the great countries of the day. The underlying premise is that the Industrial Revolution occurred in the Celtic regions several hundred years before the actual historical period. From this, the first explorers to reach the New World were Celts who established trading relationships rather than seeking conquest. Thus, Native American cultures remain intact and powerful into the age of space exploration, along with various other marginalized traditional cultures of today. Also a nice read.

#130: The Dragon Rises looks very good As someone who has an interest in Celtic legend and culture, her science fiction treatment intrigues me. Thanksfor the review and recommendation.

@131: Stasia, you are so very good at keeping up with so many people's threads. I confess that I've abandoned much of my online reading in order to concentrate on catching up on some writing.

An interesting aside before the next reviews: tonight with dinner I cracked open The Collected Short Fiction of C. J. Cherryh, tiring of rereading familiar stories and unwilling to commit to new novels. I have mostly read novels (a reaction against years of public school English classes??) and own only 11 books that would qualify as short story collections. This one was given to me by my querido, a thrift store find, I suspect. I dabbled in it many, many months ago, but it has languished ever since. Anyway, I started at the beginning and started working my way forward, but decided that wasn't working so well and maybe jumped a little bit. Tonight I went back to the unfinished starting section ("Sunfall"), which involves stories of very different flavors set (or inspired by) in some of the most famous cities in the world at the end of time...the one set in Peking ("The General") involved the exact same trope described in The Dragon Rises: the immortal love triangle centered around the warleader. This story names a lot more names from history though. Interesting.

Because I'm lazy and want to catch up in this lifetime, I am going to review the next five books together, all by Patricia Briggs: Cry Wolf, Moon Called, Blood Bound, Iron Kissed, and Bone Crossed. All of these are part of the dark, modern fantasy that is so trendy these days involving werewolves, vampires, witches, demons, and other things that go bump in the night in a gritty urban setting with a no-nonsense, tough-as-nails heroine. After trying a handful of authors in this newer style, I find that I really like Briggs for a variety of reasons, which I have already stated in earlier conversations but will certainly go through again.

The first of these, Cry Wolf, is a spin-off from the main series and provides a little more background on characters who are fairly secondary in the main series, and also more exploration of werewolf packs and their magic. It also introduces the concept of the Omega werewolf to complement the Alphas and the dominance games we hear so much about in the main series (the other four books I listed). My querido isn't sure he likes the Omega concept. I think it is an interesting idea and a necessary plot device here. I'm not sure I'm completely sold on it, though. Anyway, the hero is Charles, the Native American second son of Bran Cornick, the Marrok (or the alpha of all alphas who ultimately rules all of the werewolves). The heroine is Anna, an Omega werewolf who was systematically brutalized in so many ways by the Chicago pack before Charles arrived to clean up that mess (alluded to in Moon Called). Apparently there's a short story somewhere that actually covers the events in Chicago. This story starts with Anna accompanying Charles and Bran back to Montana and the series of events there. I am not sure how much someone unfamiliar with the main series would be able to follow in this story.

This story is basically a combination of romance and adventure. Anna and Charles are clearly made for each other and their wolves know it. Getting their human halves accustomed to the idea is the challenge, since they were strangers a week before the story started. And Anna, the victim of beatings and sexual assaults over a number of years, is dealing with some major post-traumatic stress disorder with flashbacks and so on. So she is quite often a cowering wreck kicking herself for being such a mess but not quite able to assert herself or instantly overcome her fears and flinches. The adventure part involves Anna and Charles backpacking into the remote wilderness of the Cabinet Mountains in the middle of winter in search of what appears to be a rogue werewolf attacking lone hikers.

On the one hand, it's a plus that the author isn't afraid to tackle a serious issue and to show someone coping with the aftermath of abuse. On the other hand, it gets rather annoying when Charles and Anna repeatedly misunderstand and miscommunicate and emotionally writhe silently and separately. The author is also very careful to sidestep the jealousy trap--Charles wants her to know he's hers, not that she's his. Nice verbal dodge when he just wants to tear every male who approaches her apart. Sounds pretty damn possessive to me. Having survived a long-term relationship with someone who had insane jealousy issues, I find it interesting that she tries to turn this into a positive, since the way that she has characterized the werewolves and their territoriality makes this little problem a given. It's a mushy, sentimental book that helps explain the werewolves better, particularly Bran and his somewhat disfunctional marriage to Leah and his sons Charles and Samuel. The descriptions of the scenery are nice (I miss backpacking), the plot hangs together, the dialogue is generally okay, there's more internal exposition than I might like but it doesn't drag the story down too much, and I like the new characters introduced in this book. Hence, a new comfort read for me.

The main werewolf series by Patricia Briggs features Mercedes Thompson, a Native American VW mechanic who can turn into a coyote and who was fostered with werewolves when she was a child. As far as she knows, she's the only (skin)walker around, since the colonization of the New World led to the extermination of its native magical creatures by the European magical types, just like the real history of American Indian cultures. The stories are set in the Tri-Cities of Washington State.

In the first book, Moon Called, Mercy gives a job to a teenage runaway who also happens to be a werewolf. When some bad guys show up to reclaim the fugitive, things get messy. The plot races forward from there. She introduces Mack to the local Alpha, Adam Hauptmann, who also happens to be her neighbor. The bad guys show up at the Alpha's home, Mack ends up dead, Adam is nearly dead, and his human daughter is missing. The action proceeds from there. An important note is that Samuel Cornick reappears in Mercy's life. She was desperately in love with him when she was 16, but his father the Marrok broke it up, and she left the werewolf pack and ultimately became an entrepreneur and an independent woman. But now she maybe has to deal with that emotional baggage. SPOILER Mercy ends up with a broken arm.

Mercy calls upon her vampire friend Stefan to get a lead on the bad guys in the first book. In return in the second book (Blood Bound), he requests that she accompany him in coyote form on an errand involving a vampire passing through the area. Turns out the strange vampire is also a sorceror who is in league with a demon. Plot races from there. We learn more about the various characters and how vampires work. There are signs of a possible triangle involving Mercy, Samuel, and Adam. Or maybe that's a square...SPOILER Mercy ends up with a sprained ankle and is generally beat up and has a bad case of vampire-induced willies. The love triangle is heating up.

In the second book, Mercy gets help from the fae (think pixies, brownies, kelpies, ogres, elves, and any other nonhuman magical creature from European lore), so in the third book (Iron Kissed) they call in the favor, asking her to use her coyote nose to investigate some murders on the fae reservation. One of the reservation security guards is discovered dead in his home, killed by obviously nonhuman means, and when the police arrive, they find and arrest Zee (Siebold Adelbertsmiter), Mercy's former boss at the garage and mentor. Mercy is determined to help him and find the real killer, fast-paced plot ensues. We learn more about the fae, and the vampires are generally absent. SPOILER The love triangle is mostly resolved. Mercy ends up raped and with her arm mangled so badly that only magic can cure it. So on top of the nightmares about vampires, she has panic attacks and other PTSD symptoms to cope with.

The fourth book, Bone Crossed, picks up immediately after the third, with overlapping closing and opening scenes. It's basically a revenge of the vampires story, no, it's a ghost story, no, it's even more bad things happen to Mercy story. We learn a little more about walkers, and vampires, and fae, and ghosts. Mercy has not one but MANY males of various supernatural persuasions trying to control her. She ends up imprisoned, but no major physical damage for a change. Just the heebie-jeebies of having someone control her memories and also controlling some of the others around her on a visit to Spokane to help an old college friend. And the political and magical fallout of being joined to the werewolf pack. And still dealing with the after-effects of her earlier traumas. I liked this story okay, but I think it has more holes in it and doesn't hang together perhaps quite as neatly as earlier stories.

So why do I like this series? Multiple strong minority characters including African American, Native American, multiracial African-Asian, Latino, gay, and probably others that I'm not bringing to mind right now. Most of the characters are still white and straight and male, but not all of them, and the minorities are liberally scattered through the series in important roles, not just a token here and there.

There aren't as many women characters; certainly, Mercy doesn't appear to have any female friends (besides Adam's daughter). She apparently had problems in her youth with the female werewolves in the pack, and the female werewolves in the present-day storyline are mentioned only in passing with the exception of Honey, who appears to be developing into a friend after initial antagonism. The only other female characters who get any time are Jesse, the teenage human daughter of Adam, the local Alpha, and Marsala, the mistress of the local vampire seethe.

It is nice to see a plucky female protagonist succeeding in a patriarchal society (and the werewolves are that), and that this character is realistically portrayed, including the physical and emotional and mental costs of coping with crises. However, it is a little disturbing that these costs are escalating throughout the series, which the characters themselves point out. I recently came across a discussion of the
Women in Refrigerators pattern in comic books, which was later expanded to other fictional media . Other characters are taking real beatings too, but they're men with supernatural healing powers that Mercy lacks. I'm not saying that Patricia Briggs is being sexist here, but this escalation of horrors for Mercy is troubling.

Other reasons I like the series--engaging characters, generally good dialogue, interesting ideas like the fae reservations, certainly fast-paced action stories with a good dollop of romance and emotional depth. It's not set in one of the obligatory major urban areas--New York and California really don't need any more attention. The Pacific Northwest needs to be better represented in fiction, in my opinion. The character is blue collar and worries about paying her bills. She also has a sense of humor. These are all things I can connect with, though my collar's been bleached in the last couple years.

The Patricia Briggs books look like something I might enjoy. Thanks for the review, Chris. I will see if I can find them.

The Patricia Briggs books would be going on the wishlist if they weren't already there!

@135: Stasia, the fourth book in the series, Bone Crossed, was just released in hardcover in February. The others are available in both paperback and hardcover.

@136: lunacat--I love this series. I see you have heard from others on this.

I do want to add one small niggling point that I forgot to put in the long review. I greatly enjoyed each book, but at the end of Iron Crossed, I realized I was bothered by one small detail. At one point in the story, Mercy gets into a conversation with someone in the hopes of getting useful information that could help find the killer and clear Zee. But then the conversation proves to be very interesting and she loses herself in it, in the sense of her forgetting who she is and what her agenda is and who she is talking to because she is so focused on the topic of discussion. Samuel arrives and breaks up the conversation and later tells her she was flirting. She totally agrees with his assessment and feels a little bad about it, losing control and flirting like that. WTF? I would agree that in this situation she could potentially be *misinterpreted* as flirting--if she's so into the conversation she must be into me, ergo this is all a big sexual come-on--but that's a matter of his perception, not her action. It never occurred to me that by sincerely listening and engaging in dialogue I must be flirting. Note to self: maintain detachment in conversation. Everything else in the book was quite good, including a walk-through analysis of the psychological hash that results from surviving rape.

I do not mean to sound strident or oversensitive (a common accusation when someone raises a concern about a possible perceived bias). I admit the issues of sexism, racism, homophobia, and the myriad other prejudices/biases/forms of discrimination are something of a hobby horse right now. Perhaps it is the enthusiasm of someone seeing the world anew, having the blinders ripped away. Perhaps it is the slowly dawning realization as I educate myself that we live in an unfair, prejudiced, preferential, privileged society, and that these inequities are often (mostly?) subtle and insidious and pervasive, thousands of minor, trivial incidents and attitudes and portrayals that add up to a larger pattern. Each one of these little things is easily dismissed when pointed out, very few large, obvious examples can be found, particularly when we've gotten so good at cover stories and rationalizations. I think the underlying message in many cases is that it's okay to be racist or whatever, but it's so tacky/impolite/stupid to be open about it. And also tacky or impolite to call people on it, particularly when it is always such a minor, trivial thing and people have a right to their own opinions and all. This issue of whether or not the heroine was actually flirting by merely being herself is a case in point of how subtle these situations can be. Sigh.

An actual review now. Luckily, it's a single book: Sunshine by Robin McKinley. I stumbled over this last year while traveling. I have greatly enjoyed everything else by this author that I have read, though I have not made the effort to collect and read them all. This book is vastly different from her previous works, which are mostly light fantasy including reworking various folktales, including Robin Hood (Outlaws of Sherwood), Beauty and the Beast (Beauty and Rose Daughter), Sleeping Beauty (Spindle's End), and the more obscure Deerskin that tackles incest. She also has young adult books with female protagonists set in her imaginary land of Daria: The Blue Sword and The Hero and the Crown, both favorites of mine. All of these have charm and some lyrical style, though not of the caliber of Patricia McKillip.

It was hard for me to believe that Sunshine was written by the same author. It's another gritty, urban, modern fantasy that is the mode these days. It's still essentially another young adult book, since the heroine is a high school graduate who works in the family restaurant/coffee shop as the head baker. I think she's still a teenager, or perhaps very early twenties. This one is told in the first person, unlike her earlier books that I recall. The heroine has an engaging narrative voice. And since I am something of a baker myself, I certainly can relate to our heroine and find her discourses on culinary creations and such things as leavening agents interesting.

The story has a very interesting premise in the Voodoo Wars--apparently an attempt by vampires to take over the world. As a result, a great many people and even cities died or disappeared or turned into something bad. A special branch of law enforcement was created, along with legislation making it illegal to be a vampire and requiring everyone with any nonhuman (therefore, by definition demon) characteristics or magic abilities to register in a national database. That's all background material, and many details and implications remain unexplained.

The heroine gets kidnapped by a band of vampires and lives to tell the tale, and moreover goes on to defeat the evil vampires with the help of a not quite so evil vampire who goes on the be her pointy-toothed friend by the end of the book. I understand the necessity of "he's not like other vampires" device--if he were like other vampires, the narrator would already be dead and there'd be no story--but it's still annoying. The closing scene is the two of them skipping off into the night to play before she has to start her 4 a.m. cinnamon roll shift. How very saccharine.

I was also annoyed by the pages and pages of internal exposition as the narrator agonizes over "I can't believe I'm not trying to kill this vampire, since he's a vampire," and "I can't believe I am still stuck in this nightmare involving vampires, and I'm sure to die," and "OMG I might be a ticking time bomb," and "I can't believe I did that, no one's ever done that." A certain amount of it is necessary and believable, but not going on for paragraphs and paragraphs on this page and that page, repeat.

But those are my only gripes. It's an interesting story, and interesting backstory, interesting characters, interesting magical system, generally good dialogue. I look forward to the sequel, clearly there's a lot more story to tell. Certainly this is a vibrant new direction for Robin McKinley.

I reread To Kill a Mockingbird again this year. I think it's becoming an annual thing because this book is simply brilliant. It may be the only book that Harper Lee ever wrote, but it's a hell of a legacy by itself. I recently heard the author described as essentially the epitome of a Southern Democrat.

I think most people are familiar with the gist of the story: Tom Robinson, a black man, is accused of raping a white girl (Mayella Ewell). Atticus Finch is the attorney appointed to defend him in this courtroom drama. But the story isn't just about the trial, which actually takes up very little of the novel. Instead, it's an incredible portrait of small-town southern life and the complex mosaic of relationships and interactions among blacks, whites, rich, poor, educated, and ignorant.

Scout, the eight-year-old daughter of Atticus Finch, is the narrator, and her ignorance and innocence and preoccupation with childish things act as a very effective lens shining a light slantwise on the dark side of human nature and the ills of racism, since confronting these things directly is still so very difficult even today.

Thank you Emily Dickens for your words:
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant---
Success in Cirrcuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightening to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind---

And so it is with this story, building gradually from the normalcy of everyday life of playtime and school, to the pretrial rumors and taunts and attempted lynching, to the crisis of the trial itself, and the aftershocks culminating in the climax and resolution that give the book its title. The way is paved with amazing characterizations and dialogue. The writing is wonderfully evocative of the era. The child's voice and perspective are perfectly portrayed. I can't think of any single flaw, though I'm certainly willing to listen if someone else disagrees.

I read TKaM last year for the first time. Like you, I may have to make it an annual read. It is an absolutely wonderful book!

I have never read To Kill a Mockingbird and, weirdly, don't have any desire to. Perhaps I fear that it wouldn't live up to what I believe it should be, and don't want to be let down.

Chris, great reviews on the Patricia Briggs series... I'll put them on for future TBR (I'm on an official paranormal hiatus). Funny enough, the only Robin McKinley I've read is that obscure Deerskin when I was young. I can't remember if I liked it though. Your review of her other novel is prompting me to rescue it from my parent's house.

@140: Stasia, it may be that I am a sucker for children in stories when they are well done. I am just so much more impressed when the narration is from a child's perspective and it feels so well done that it reminds me of my own childhood. Hotel Paradise struck me much the same way.

@141: Lunacat, I can certainly understand the worry of overly high expectations leading to disappointment. I am curious as to what you think the story should be...

@142: Why take a break from the paranormal? I like Deerskin a great deal, not necessarily because of the serious issue being explored, but because it's a great girl and her dog story. I also have a soft spot for moon goddesses.

Great review of To Kill a Mockingbird. Congratulations on the hot review on the home page.

#143

I think I'm expecting for the book to change my life or how I see the world or something! I've heard SO much about it and I don't think I'd be happy for anything less, so I just daren't.

@144: Kelly, thank you for pointing that out. How did I end up there? It's certainly a nice compliment.

@145: That is certainly a heavy burden for a single book to carry. I am not sure even the Bible accomplishes that very often. Or maybe lots of books accomplish that all of the time. The book has some excellent insights and is very quotable. I particularly like the character of Miss Maudie who provides most of those insights because she is the only adult who talks to Scout about adult topics (outside of Atticus Finch, her father). And she's a hoot.

Next on the list is the fantasy trilogy by Tad Williams. This author's debut novel, Tailchaser's Song was quite well received. It was similar to Watership Down in terms of being an animal story, in this case cats, that involves dialogue and a certain amount of animal society, but without completely anthropomorphizing the critters. I thought it was okay, but not worth acquiring.

Then Williams came out with The Dragonbone Chair. Friends of mine attended a convention where Michael Whelan was a guest artist, and they were kind enough to get me a prepublication copy signed by my favorite cover artist (still is, but I am apathetic these days). I read this story and was blown away. I was similarly impressed with the rest of the trilogy (itself called Memory, Sorrow and Thorn): Stone of Farewell and To Green Angel Tower. It remains among my all-time fantasy favorites and I reread it at regular intervals (as its appearance in this list demonstrates).

Keep in mind that at the time I was well into my period of swearing off fantasy, since I was sick and tired of repetitive knock-offs built around medieval European cultural elements and generally being Tolkein derivatives. And this book has all of the classic fantasy tropes: a small band of heroes who begin separately but come together for a good cause, an evil threatening the land, a quest to save the world so lots of moving around the landscape fleeing bad guys and seeking the key to defeating evil, battles, the inevitable romance, and happy ending. And it has all of the standard fantasy characters: a hero of humble origins who turns out to be more than first appears, a wise old mentor who guides our heroes and has some share of magic, princesses in disguise, elves, dragons.

It is also entertaining to match up the cultures that appear in the book to the real-world inspirations. The elves and the Norns are clearly inspired by Asian cultures (Japanese probably, among others). The Rimmersmen are Vikings, the Hernystiri are Welsh (or maybe more generic Celts), the Thrithings are horse-riding nomads (Scythians? Mongols? more of an eastern European feel), the Erkynlanders are Anglo-Saxon, the Nabbanai are Italian/Holy Roman Empire, with Perdruin being Sicily, the Wrannamen may be Irish or another marsh-based culture, but I tend to think more of the bayous of the American South (perhaps the Seminoles?), and the Yiqanuc trolls are like the Inuit or perhaps the Sherpas in the Himalayas. Now that I'm writing it all down, the fact is that all of the humans in this story are white, and any people of color are represented by nonhuman cultures. And of course there's no black folk here.

While this trilogy has all of the standard, well-trodden features, many that can be correlated directly to The Lord of the Rings, it is still original and fresh, perhaps because in many ways it subverts the standard tropes, and perhaps the many, many secondary characters that provide dimensions and depth and bring the world and its many cultures to life. The narrative is filled with stories and songs, and the characters speak in a range of dialects reflecting their cultural differences. The dialogue is quite good, as is the prose in general, and the character development. It is, ultimately, a very long coming-of-age story, as a teenager matures into manhood and learns wisdom in the process of surviving many harrowing crises. It is also a meditation on love, loss, grief, despair, sacrifice, longing for peace/annhilation/the end of existence, honor, legends, human limits, and all of that good, big stuff.

(edited to fix grammar)

You remind me that I still need to read some of Williams' work. I am bumping up Tailchaser's Song on Planet TBR. Thanks for the reminder, Chris.

Stasia -

Memory, Sorrow and Thorn is definitely a great series! You should try it out. Besides, between the three books, there are enough pages to keep you busy for 2 or 3 days! 8^)

#147 I love the Memory, Sorry, and Thorn series. I re-read it every once in awhile, and enjoy it every time. His other series are do not live up to this one IMHO.

@148: Stasia, let me know how you like Tailchaser's Song when you get around to it. I read it going on 20 years ago now, and who knows, if I read it again now, I might like it a lot more.

And I am starting to catch up on the reviews, only 17 to go, now 16. Sadly, no more trilogies etc. so that I can knock off multiple books together.

Next is A Morbid Taste for Bones by Ellis Peters. This is the first of a long series of Brother Cadfael mysteries. I have watched many televised episodes, in no particular order, and enjoyed them a great deal. Of course, I am generally a fan of BBC and most of my limited viewing time is devoted to British productions.

In this story, the ambitious members of Brother Cadfael's monastery decide to appropriate an obscure Welsh saint for the benefits that miracles and pilgrims can bring. Brother Cadfael, with his Welsh background and language skills joins the expedition over the border to translate the saint's bones. Not surprisingly, the local villagers are not pleased with the idea, and the most outspoken opponent turns up dead. In this story, Brother Cadfael relies on basic forensics observations rather than his extensive herbal and botanical knowledge to investigate the murder, though the book clearly lays out his personality and background.

It was a charming story that brought the era to life and highlighted the differences between Wales and England. It also gives insights into monastic life, which must seem quite alien to most modern readers. The characters were sympathetically drawn though without much depth. The dialogue was good, the narrative was in reasonable proportion, and the plot was moderately interesting if generally predictable. And of course, the poetic justice was lovely.

@148: Stasia, let me know how you like Tailchaser's Song when you get around to it. I read it going on 20 years ago now, and who knows, if I read it again now, I might like it a lot more.

@149: Yes, the first book is 783 pages, and the third book was so long that it was broken into two separate paperbacks, each larger than The Dragonbone Chair

@150: Lorie, good to know about his other books. I've never moved beyond Memory, Sorrow and Thorn.

Well that little blip was surprising. I see that it posted my review after all.

#143: I'm on hiatus from paranormals just because I've read so many bad ones in the past year or two. I picked up one a month ago and it was my first official abandonment of the year. I just realize that I need a break because I can't think of vampires and werewolves without rolling my eyes. Before I end up hating the genre, I might as well take a good six months+ and leave it alone... notwithstanding the fact that I have plans to read Twilight before the end of the year. I'll need to shore up some tolerance for that one.

Makes total sense. I am fond of werewolves and pick up books related to them when I stumble across them, but I'm not going out of my way to track them down. So far it's been Patricia Briggs series, and Blood Trail by Tanya Huff. Wolf Moon by Charles de Lint (an oldie but a goodie). Decades ago, I tried the first couple of Cheysuli books by Jennifer Roberson but just couldn't connect with the heroine and didn't bother pursuing it any further. Browsing the shelves recently, I do see a whole slew of books, but they mostly look exceedingly stupid, things like Kelley Armstrong's Women of the Underworld series. Perhaps I should not dismiss them so readily, but most of my recent forays have been disappointing.

I am not a vampire buff, so I have read a few vampire stories here and there (or stories where vampires appear), but I have no real interest in seeking them out. So no Anne Rice or Laurel K. Hamilton or Mary Janice Davidson or Twilight or doubtless many others. I read a few of the Tanya Huff books and Barbara Hambly's two vampire books (Those Who Hunt the Night and Travelling with the Dead). I am also particularly fond of Yarrow by Charles de Lint, which isn't the traditional vampire story. A vampire turns up in the Guardian Diana Tregarde stories by Mercedes Lackey. That's about the total of my experience.

What I find interesting is the many different interpretations of each of these legendary supernatural creatures. Vampires are solitary, no, they tend to cluster together. Only the alpha werewolves breed, no, they have difficulty breeding at all and their offspring are human. And so on.

Thanks for reminding me I need to read a Tad Williams at some point. I have a few of his but have never got round to reading one of them.

I've also just started the Brother Cadfael mysteries and am really liking them. Yes they're predictable, the plots aren't the absolute best but the atmosphere and the historical detail make them for me.

@156: lunacat, you'll have to let me know how you like Tad Williams once you get around to him. I look forward to reading more Brother Cadfael. I don't mind predictable much, as long as scenery or characters or dialogue or three make up for it.

The next on my list is The Dispossessed by Ursula LeGuin. I have been quite impressed with this author over the years. I have not enjoyed all of her stories that I've tried, but every one is an in-depth exploration of some very important social concept. In this case, it is a society of anarchists in a moon colony.

The Dispossessed does not progress in a linear narrative fashion. It begins with a gathering of protesters at the spaceport who hope to stop the solitary passenger Shevek from traveling to the main planet. Shevek is a theoretical physicist, and the story alternates between vignettes from his infancy up to the spaceport confrontation and continuing the story from that point forward.

This society of anarchists is an interesting thought experiment. It is all about suppressing egotism and selfish desires. The language was artificially constructed to remove things like possessive pronouns. Names are assigned by the central computer and serve as unique identifiers (no need for SSN). Material possessions are strongly frowned upon. All unattached individuals sleep in dormitories, and everyone eats in communal cafeterias. There are no marriages and divorces or nuclear families. "Egoizing" and "propertarians" are dirty words.

As my querido points out, the success of this venture depends on extreme isolation and privation. Exiled to the moon, they are completely cut off from other cultures and languages and customs. And the moon is barely terraformed; the human population is barely hanging on, and the agricultural ecology is minutely managed. One bad year means serious famine potential. And no one can just hare off and become a hermit in the wilderness if he or she doesn't like the way things are going. It is the epitome of mutual interdependence for the sake of survival.

The moon colony has no government as such, no laws, no crimes, no elected officials, no dictators, no family patriarchs, no police force, no military, no elite, and no underclass. Also no money. Every individual owes community service but is free to seek his or her own best contribution/occupation/avocation. It is supposed to be a sort of perpetual revolution. But every system exists to perpetuate itself, given enough time, and develops some form of bureaucracy. Conformity through peer pressure is perhaps more insidious than via regulations.

And so when Shevek hits an intellectual wall in his own society (which in general does not consider his scholarship as making any sort of contribution and frowns upon the solitude necessary for his work), he decides to seek out his colleagues on the planet. This plan is not only for his own growth, but to shake up his own society that is forgetting its founding premises.

To me, the main planet is a strong critique of the inequalities of our modern society. And the inability of Shevek and the people from the planet to understand each other because their basic assumptions are so radically different is at times amusing. The perspective of humans, who appear at the end of the story, provides an additional contrast. Note only two humans are mentioned: an Asian woman and a black man.

Ahhh! I can't read your review of The Dispossessed... I bought it in August and picking the right time to read it.

@158: Sorry about that. It was an engrossing story. I read it as part of my Hugo-winner list. Good luck finding the right time.

Woohoo, another trilogy! After this, only a dozen left.

I stumbled across Delan the Mislaid by Laurie J. Marks while rummaging through my mom's boxes of books in the garage. It looked moderately interesting and it was an author I'd never heard of. It blew me away, and I eventually found the sequels, The Moonbane Mage and Ara's Field. The entire trilogy is a meditation on bigotry, genocide, and coexistence, full of wonderful dialogue and characters and great insights. I think it is overall brilliant, though I like the first book better than the follow-ups.

It also violates the principle I once heard expressed long ago that it is the human perspective on the alien that makes the science fiction story meaningful. Something along the lines of readers can't connect with something truly alien and they can't grasp how alien it is without the contrast to humanity in the story. I have also heard the same argument with respect to landscape photography, that the clues of human presence are necessary for the image's tension and beauty. I think Ansel Adams is a quite effective rebuttal to this viewpoint. Certainly, things like Pride of Chanur and the Foreigner series by C.J. Cherryh, Golden Witchbreed by Mary Gentle, and The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin are effective exactly because of the solitary human narrator immersed in a humanoid society. But in each of those cases, those humanoids are so close to human in so many ways, that the differences become quite unsettling and more difficult to comprehend than something completely alien would be. And certainly, by the end of the Chanur series (Chanur's Legacy), the human has been dispensed with entirely, except for imaginary internal dialogues by the hani protagonist.

So this trilogy has no humans at all. Instead, it is about three or more sentient races coexisting on the same planet. The walkers are farmers and generally very pragmatic and unimaginative, concerned with the daily business of living; there are many races of walkers and two sexes; they're afraid of heights, can see well in dim lighting, are sexually mature by age 13 or so, mostly hibernate in the winter, and have spread rapidly across the continent. The Aeyries used to be gatherers, until the Walker expansion began claiming all of the territory, so now they are largely the inventors, producing advance in technology that they trade with the Walkers for food and supplies. The Aeyries can fly, are hermaphrodites, are afraid of water and flat ground, can see well in bright light, are active year-round, and are sexually mature around 19 or so. The Mers are telepathic, have two sexes, no language, and live in the sea in migratory herds. Both Aeyries and Walkers lay eggs and breast feed, the Mers have live births.

The protagonist in the first book is Delan who grew up in a remote, primitive Walker community. The story begins when Teksan the Walker appears and takes Delan, who is 18 or 19, back with him to his town. On the journey, Delan meets Eia, an Aeyrie. Delan eventually learns that he himself is an Aeyrie and that Teksan plans to use him to access and wipe out the three remaining Aeyrie communities.

Along the way we are introduced to the Triad, an intentional community of Aeyries and Walkers who are trying to overcome their profound differences and prejudices. The community began when Lian, a Walker female, found Pilgrim, a Mer female, injured on the beach. Pilgrim in her pain had been driven away from the herd and ultimately became telepathically bonded with Lian, who contacted the Aeyries to find someone who could create a place where the terrestrial/marine partners could be together. The Triad meets hostility from both Walkers and Aeyries, but steps in to address this crisis that threatens the continued existence of the Aeyries. Delan is also aided by Orchth, who has six legs and two arms and is completely nocturnal. His people apparently live on another continent, and he was captured by sailors many years ago.

As I said, I think the story is wonderful. The characters are engaging, the societies and languages and biologies are well thought out and explained with a minimum of exposition, and the prose is straightforward. It explores several different themes, including identity, basic human rights, artistic vision, love, the nature of magic, social change, and individual and community responsibility.

The Moonbane Mage takes place many years later. The protagonist is Laril, Delan's biological child, raised to become the leader of one of the three Aeyrie communities. It opens soon after Laril becomes an adult when he is exiled from his community. During his flight he is carried off-course into the mountains where he meets the Aeyrie mage Raulyn who lives alone in a remote valley with Bet, his lone Walker servant. This time the threatened interspecies war is headed by Aeyrie extremists, in uneasy collaboration with Walker extremists. These zealots plan to attack Triad using a weapon reconstructed under duress by Laril. This book explores themes of coercion, imprisonment, extremism, and the various motivations for collaboration with the enemy.

Ara's Field opens with a Mer gestalt encountering polluted waters, accessing their deeply buried group memories, and driving out a lone young female to become an emissary. This story brings together Laril, Bet, Eia, and Delan, and introduces several new characters. This time it is the Walker society and governance that are being explored. Triad and the Aeyrie communities have survived threats of genocide for decades now, and long-term peaceful coexistence seems like a real possibility. But the Aeyrie communities continue to stagnate without hope, barely reproducing enough to replace their populations. Could it be that with no past, the Aeyries find it impossible to imagine a future? And our heroes begin to wonder why the past is such a mystery. What happened centuries ago that nearly wiped out the Aeyries who covered the continent before Walkers arrived? And what does this have to do with Walker government and marine pollution? It's all connected--you'll have to read it to find out more.

#160: Looks like a trilogy I need to look for. Thanks for the recommendation, Chris.

#160: I'll give it a shot, as well. Thanks!

#160

Looks like an enjoyable trilogy, I shall look out for them.

@161-163: all of you, please let me know your reaction once you get a chance to read at least one of these. I think they each can work as a stand-alone novel, but probably the greatest appreciation comes from reading them in sequence, in terms of understanding character growth.

Next is Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff. A friend loaned this to me after he finished reading it during our joint Memorial Day weekend camping trip. It was interesting, in part because it is well outside of the usual genres that I mostly read (historical, mystery, romance, science fiction, fantasy). I am not sure whether this counts as mainstream fiction.

The book opens with an author's note explaining how she came to write this book. In essence, she grew up in a small town and once she moved away discovered that she missed it. So this is something of a fictional homage to her home town as well as James Fenimore Cooper's similar work.

Willie Upton is the heroine, trainwrecked her life rather spectacularly and runs home in the middle of her arctic field season (she's a doctoral candidate in archaeology). But things have changed: her former pot-smoking free-loving mother has found religion and confesses that Willie's father is actually someone here in town, not one of the several men passing through her San Francisco commune in her youth as Willie believed. So Willie goes on a quest to discover not only her biological father, but also the erring ancestor who was responsible for two or maybe three different branches of the family tree.

This is something of a multimedia story involving a range of narrative styles, photos and other illustrations, viewpoints, etc. ranging back and forth from the present day back to the founding of the town by the family progenitor and to points in between. As Willie researches each new family member from the past, the book cuts to a vignette from that person's perspective (or someone nearby). It leads to some interestingly opposed perspectives on some of the same central characters and events. And then there's the lake monster that floats to the surface dead on the day of Willie's return; it is woven through all of these vignettes as some sort of giant supernatural metaphor. The present-day story revolves around the genealogical research and Willie's relationship with her mother and her best friend who is still in the big city (recently diagnosed with a serious illness), and rediscovering people from her high school days.

TOTAL SPOILER It turns out that the great progenitor was murdered and that various people had reasons to want him dead. In fact, they all nearly stumbled over each other as they converged on him that fateful night in fine comic-book fashion, but in the end the Indian does the deed. What does that say? That whites turned away at the last moment in a fit of civilization and only the savage did not reconsider? Or that the injury done to him in the end was the worst and therefore justice belonged to him?

SECOND SPOILER There's a case of almost date rape, but Willie manages to physically defend herself. And it turns out the man isn't a total asshole and knows he was in the wrong and they maybe work through it. When she first meets him, he's got a beer belly and is the classic blue-collar redneck, and by the end of the story (and summer) he's got essentially six-pack abs and is reading poetry? I don't completely buy it. Not that personal transformation isn't possible, but that's quite a turnaround in a very limited window.

SKIP TO HERE FOR THE DENOUEMENT--The book had some spectacularly funny moments, as well as some poignant ones. It was a good read--once again with the prose, the dialogue, the characters, the plot, and all of other elements of story. All of the modern-day characters are white and straight, as far as I can tell. A few key historical characters were slaves or Native American, many were women including at least one who was mentally ill. All of the portrayals were generally compassionate and carried some emotional weight. It was a pleasant and moderately rewarding experience, but I'm not sure I would buy the book.

Next on my list are the two Elizabeth Peters audiobooks: Crocodile on the Sandbank and The Curse of the Pharoahs, both narrated by Barbara Rosenblat

As I mentioned before, Barbara Rosenblat did a fabulous job narrating these unabridged editions. She developed a different voice for each character by changing tone, accent, and speaking style. It made each person quite memorable.

Both books are amusing. In Crocodile on the Sandbank, Amelia Peabody is a nigh-middle-aged Victorian-era feminist (before the term was invented, of course) who inherits a pot of money and decides to travel abroad. Along the way she encounters Evelyn, a nice girl in a spot of trouble. The two travel together to Egypt, where they meet the Emerson brothers: Rutherford (older) and Walter (younger). While the younger two hit it off immediately, the older two are at odds until the very end of the book in classic romantic antagonism. The two ladies visit the Emersons' dig, and soon thereafter a mummy appears to be haunting the expedition. While the characters and the descriptions of the scenery and the archaeology of the day were wonderful, the plot was very tired and predictable. About halfway through the story it was patently obvious who was behind the mummy and why, but our heroes couldn't figure it out for a long, long time and only after Evelyn's life was in jeapordy. That was irritating. And the gushy ending of the two couples inevitably finding love, how neat and convenient.

The Curse of the Pharoahs had a better plotline, in the sense of having a much larger cast of potential suspects and motives for the three mysterious murders. It left me guessing until close to the end. This book also did an excellent job portraying the racism inherent in British colonialism and ex-pat upper crust society. Both books include generally sympathetic portrayals of Egyptians and Muslims.

The story takes place several years after Crocodile on the Sandbank. Amelia and Emerson have a young son whom they leave in Evelyn and Walter's care while they take over as expedition leaders when the original sponsor mysteriously dies. This time it is a mysterious "lady in white" who appears to be haunting the dig, then there are the bodies with no apparent cause of death but a hieroglyphic on the forehead suggesting nothing natural.

The cast of characters include the widow of the original expedition leader, a rich American Egyptology enthusiast, an Irish tabloid journalist, a German Egyptologist, a young British girl and her wacky mother who thinks she's a reincarnated Egyptian Queen, a young British photographer, and various Egyptian field staff (some of these minor characters from the first novel) and local villagers. My major issue--once again a fat woman is portrayed as the worst person in the story--selfish, drunken, greedy, bizarre, emotionally manipulative--while just about everyone else is various degrees of nice, at least on the surface (and ignoring the blatant racism of the day).

This story isn't as predictable as the first, but it also has a few holes left wide open at the end. It was perfectly enjoyable though. And their son Ramses was hysterical in every scene where he appeared, either in person or via his letters. I expect to continue with the series.

I love the Peabody series. I hope you continue to enjoy them.

@167: Stasia, so far I find the characters enjoyable. I look forward to seeing more of Ramses.

The next book on my list is Alamut by Judith Tarr. Tarr is a serious researcher who knows her time periods. As far as I know, most of her novels are set during the Middle Ages, but at least one is set at the end of the Roman Empire (Household Gods, written with Harry Turtledove).

I consider Alamut and its sequel The Dagger and the Cross as spin-offs from the Hound and Falcon Trilogy (The Isle of Glass, The Golden Horn, and The Hounds of God), though I believe Alamut occurs first, chronologically. All of these are set in the 12-13 c., but they are fantasies--the protagonists are not quite human and are capable of magic. They are unbelievably fair--both in terms of pale complexions and inhuman beauty--they are effectively immortal, and have been considered djinns, witches, fairies, elves, depending on the circumstances. And over the decades they have gathered from across the continent to the (imaginary) kingdom of Rhiyana. But the fictional plotlines are tightly woven into actual historical events of the day.

Alamut takes place in the Middle East. The hero, Prince Aidan of Rhiyana goes to visit his mortal nephew in the Holy Land, now that the Crusaders have reclaimed the region for Christianity. However, he arrives too late; his nephew was assassinated (in the original sense of the word--murdered by the hashishayun, a fanatical Muslim (Shi'ite?) sect. He vows vengeance, and of course it turns out that the assassin is one of his own kind, Morgiana, long enslaved to the sect. She has never before met one of her kind and is instantly smitten. It's basically a romance with a very rocky beginning.

The story is told from four viewpoints: Aidan, Morgiana, and their female sidekicks--in his case, Joanna, the married stepdaughter of his late nephew, in her case, Sayyida, the married daughter of the weaponsmith who forges her assassin's blades. It takes Aidan way too long to figure out that Morgiana is the assassin. That's a little annoying. And Morgiana sure doesn't sound like anything vaguely Arabic. Those are really my only complaints. Tarr does a good job showing some of the cultural and economic aspects of Middle Eastern society, both domestic and public. Her female characters are all strong and capable, and she shows how they fit into the patriarchal societies of both faiths. The balance of coexistence and tension between Christianity and Islam, both militarily and culturally, is also portrayed quite well. It's also a who's who of the political leaders of the Holy Lands during that time period, including Saladin and Baldwin IV. In other words, this is an easy way to learn something about the Middle Ages during part of the Crusading era. The author's note at the end does a good job explaining where she took liberties with the history and geography and listing useful nonfiction resources.

#168: Oh, you will see a bunch more of Ramses, be assured!

Tarr's books look good. I will have to check them out!

#168

So which is the first of these then if I am going to embark on this author? Which would you recommend?

@168, lunacat, I haven't read the sequel to Alamut yet. As of my current knowledge, it doesn't make a difference whether you start with The Hound and Falcon trilogy (Alf and Thea are the romantic protagonists) or Alamut and The Dagger and the Cross. The trilogy clearly takes place over a few years, but I haven't sat down to figure out how many years. Aidan and Morgiana are both members of the Rhiyanan royal court who are mentioned in passing in the third book (The Hounds of God), which I just reread for the sake of figuring that out. This is why I infer that Alamut is chronologically earlier, but whether it is earlier than the entire trilogy, I don't know. Alamut is completely independent and involves no one from Rhiyana (meaning none of the characters from the trilogy), so it doesn't matter whether it is read before or after the trilogy. What I don't know about is The Dagger and the Cross--it may involve more characters from Rhiyana and may be more firmly seated in a specific point of the storytelling chronology (all of them are firmly seated in specific historical event chronologies, but I am not well-versed enough to know these and too lazy to figure it all out).

All of that is a long-winded way of saying you can start with Alamut and be fine or The Isle of Glass and be fine. The trilogy is more an exploration of the spiritual implications of the Fair Folk (such as do they have souls), since Alf is a monk, at least to begin with. Alamut is more concerned with morality--life, death, murder, power, loyalty. Clearly I need to read The Dagger and the Cross sooner rather than later, so that I can give a more definitive answer.

The Forgotten Beast of Eld by Patricia McKillip is an old friend. I do not reread it as often as the Riddle-Master of Hed trilogy, but it still has a timeless charm, as do all of her stories.

This is the story of Sybel, a third-generation wizard. She has always lived alone in the mountains with her magical menagerie in the house her grandfather built until the day that Coren brings her the baby Tamlorn to save him from the power struggles around the throne. And so she learns to love. This is a story of love, fear, desire, need, betrayal, hurt, compulsion, vengeance: Sybel, Tam, his father King Drood, Coren and his brothers, the old witch woman Maelga, and the various talking animals (Tyr the Falcon, Cyrin the Boar, Gyld the Dragon and more).

It is a straightforward story, filled with evocative imagery and dialogue, very reminiscent of fairy tales and styles of storytelling that are not so common anymore. The exposition is minimal; the prose is good; the characters aren't very deep. In some ways they feel more like archetypes than individuals.

A Woman Named Solitude by Andre Schwarz-Bart is the next. This one was definitely outside of my usual box. I was attracted by the title, since I have always liked Soledad as a name, and intrigued by the description on the cover: "A beautiful, heartbreaking story of slavery and the survival of the human spirit." The book was originally written in French. Certainly a grim topic, but perhaps something I should confront more often. My overall reaction? Ambivalence, uncertainty, confusion, mixed feelings. I'm not sure I like the book well enough to keep it, but I feel like maybe I should make another attempt to wrap my brain around it. I have that same reaction to A Canticle for Leibowitz and A Case of Conscience.

The novel begins in 1755 among the Diola people of West Africa. Part 1 is the story of the young girl Bayangumay coming into adulthood and marriage. The story does an excellent job, from what I can tell, of portraying something of the culture and mindset and general ways of perceiving the world of this young West African girl. It ends with her capture and transport on a slave vessel to the island of Guadeloupe (a French colony). The second part of the book tells the story of her daughter, Solitude. The first chapter is still narrated essentially by Bayungamay. The second chapter is from her daughter's perspective--in this chapter the mother's name is Man Bobette and the daughter's is Rosalie, because of course these things are dictated by the owners. The third chapter is split between the child Rosalie and Louis Mortier, the general plantation manager (de facto slaveowner). It is at the end of this chapter that the heroine names herself Solitude after a series of masters and their marks of ownership. The rest of the book covers the slave revolt, brief independence of the island, and the eventual return of white authority and the arrest and execution of various "ringleaders" including Solitude.

The opening quote and epilogue make it clear that this story was based on real people and events, including Solitude herself. The information about the author makes his motivation and inspiration clear--he survived the Nazi genocide of Jews of WWII and married a woman from the island of Guadeloupe.

I am not sure if my lack of appreciation stems from my lacking the appropriate literary background or the appropriate cultural background. Most of my reading about slavery (whether fiction or not) relates to its practice on the mainland, here in the United States, so a French island is certainly a different perspective on the ugly underbelly of colonial history. There isn't much in the way of character development or scintillating dialogue. And no plot as such, just vignettes that appear largely unconnected. The choppiest part of the book is the accounting of the revolution and temporary freedom on the island. Solitude somehow becomes a folk legend, but it doesn't seem particularly plausible and the narration isn't particularly coherent.

The author did an excellent job portraying the people and the era and making it feel viscerally real and immediate. I was deeply moved by some of the descriptions. For example, in a scene involving the public torture/execution of a slave woman who dared kill her baby (and thus steal profit from the owners):

"The child had looked in amazement from the old man's placid face to Man Bobette's tight, impassive features, and suddenly discovered that they were both observing the scene with the same eyes: two little land crabs darting this way and that, searching, biting the air roundabout. It was very hard to look at the world with such eyes. When you examined it coldly in this way, the claws of your eyes turned back into your head and tore it to pieces."

Later on, as Rosalie was trained to become a house servant: "But at other times she would stiffen her neck with rage and let the crabs fly at Man Bobette, or thrust out her belly and hurl the crabs at the big house..." Such imagery!

The book does a good job showing some of the chilling sensibilities and casual atrocities involved in this peculiar institution, and the conflicts it creates within the black communities. Rosalie is given to the manager's daughter when they are both still quite young, perhaps five or six years old. The girl already has four other personal slavegirls. And here is one exchange:

" 'Didn't To-Souls know that niggers didn't feel pain as white people do?'...But runaway niggers, Mademoiselle went on in her sweet gentle voice, didn't seem to feel anything at all. There was sorcery behind it, no other explanation was possible. Whatever you did to them, they just smiled or calmly insulted you, as though you weren't worthy of their anger." It gives whole new levels of meaning to the cluelessness that comes with white privilege.

In essence, this book is a portrait of slavery and its effects on the black people who suffered under it. But it is very unlike most novels in terms of tone, style, plot, etc., at least in my experience. So while I liked the prose, I didn't connect with the storytelling.

Edited to fix spelling, etc.

I liked The Monsters of Templeton. Groff's book of short stories, Delicate Edible Birds, is so much better. I read it earlier in the year and still occasionally think about some of the stories.
I have The Riddlemaster trilogy on next years reading list. It'll be my first McKillip.

@174: Kelly, I'll keep Delicate Edible Birds in mind. It was such a fluke to read The Monsters of Templeton in the first place, though. I am very fond of The Riddle-Master of Hed trilogy. After all these years, it still ranks in my top 20 of all time fantasy trilogies. The lyrical prose, the imagery, the characters, the memorable dialogue...I think these books would make fantastic movies, but of course I wouldn't trust Hollywood to do a good job. Maybe they should stick with adapting cartoons, video games, and toys.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen is one of my favorites. I confess I did not try any of her books until I was in my late twenties. Gone with the Wind was my friend Carolyn's favorite book when I was in junior high, while I was deeply ensconced in science fiction and fantasy at that time. Moreover, reading things like Wuthering Heights at that age for English class and not really getting it added to my avoidance of "girlie books."

But eventually I relented, and Pride and Prejudice was the very first Austen story I tried. I loved it. I still do, and prefer it over her other stories. While all of them have charm and are generally well-written, in this one both hero and heroine are strong and intelligent, and both have human flaws and learn from their own mistakes. Emma certainly was a strong heroine, but in the end she realizes she's a foolish young girl and agrees to be guided by the hero. Likewise with some of the other stories, where the hero can do no wrong.

Ms. Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy are both wonderful characters who only get better with rereading. This book also does an admirable job of showing a range of human character and all of the minutiae of polite society: the obsequious and venial cousin Mr. Collins, the charming and narcissistic Mr. Wickham, the arrogant Lady Catherine, Mr. Bingley so very easygoing and easily led, Charlotte Bennett who thinks only the best of people, the other Bennett sisters and Mrs. Bingley who display all of the stereotypical female faults that don't arise from malice, and Mr. Bennett whose only refuge from inanity and stupidity is to laugh or retreat. This book has not one romantic couple but two, and the course of their romances is quite different according to the personalities and impediments involved. All in all, a lovely story.

I agree with your thoughts on Pride and Prejudice - nice review!

@177: Angela, thank you for stopping by and thank you for the kind words!

You're welcome. I always stop by, I just don't 'talk' as much as I should...

#173: The stars on that book seem to be all over the place. There is only one posted review and it only gave the book a couple of stars, so between what it said and your reservations, I think I will give it a pass, even though the subject matter is of interest to me.

#176 Have you seen the A&E miniseries version of Pride and Prejudice? The actors really do justice to the characters without exception--just outstanding!

@180: Stasia, I felt better about the book while writing the review and deciding that it is an amazing portrait of the institution of slavery. It is excellent if you ignore character development, plot, dialogue, and so on. They're all there, but feel so choppy and disconnected. And I had a hard time connecting to the characters because they felt both flat and so very alien. But the imagery was impressive, dreamy and ugly both.

@181: ronincats, I think I did see that miniseries. I like it well enough, but the BBC version was better in my opinion. Both are wonderful.

Good grief -- how'd I miss this thread?!!! I'm gonna have to go back and read it :)

ETA Well I've finished reading the thread and am so glad I did. I took notes -- LOL! I'll make them more coherent (completely is not something I can guarantee ;->) and come back to post. Good stuff. Glad I finally found you.

@183: Welcome on-board, suslyn. I'm glad you've found it interesting and useful. I'll be getting back on track with book reviews tomorrow hopefully, certainly this week. I'm so close...

I stumbled over Bimboes of the Death Sun by Sharyn McCrumb misfiled in the fantasy/science fiction section of the new branch of The Frugal Muse, one of our local independents. The mistake was perfectly understandable, given the title. I've read several of Sharyn McCrumb's mysteries and enjoyed them tremendously. I had heard of Bimbos of the Death Sun, but I can't remember any of the particulars. It never occurred to me to connect these dots, so it was a serendipitous find.

The edition that I bought opened with an author's preface explaining the origins and ultimate cult status of this story. It is at least as good as the novel itself. The premise: our protagonist is a mild-mannered computer science (engineering?) professor who pseudonymously publishes a science fiction story that explores an interesting thought concept related to sunspots and computers. To his intense embarrassment, the publishers decide to title the book Bimbos of the Death Sun, and to his further embarrassment, he is asked to participate in a local science fiction convention as guest author. Sadly, he's not the star attraction, just a convenient fill-in when the famous author of a long-running fantasy series (and legendary asshole) causes crises and ultimately winds up dead. The book is a hilarious exploration of fan culture from the perspective of the clueless outsiders including our hero, a Scottish folk singer passing through, and the police investigating the murder. The book is very entertaining and many of the characterizations are doubtless still apt today, but the computer technology and know-how portrayed in the story are quite dated. Admittedly, floppy disks are something of a mystery today too, but that's because they've come and gone.

The characters are essentially shallow stereotypes (or archetypes if you want to be kind), and the dialogue and prose are adequate. There's a fair amount of internal exposition, which goes along with the lack of depth. Not surprisingly, the vast, vast majority of characters are white and male and straight. But still very entertaining, much like the beginning of Tim Allen's Galaxy Quest movie.

I'm going to review Arabella and The Black Moth together, since they're both by Georgette Heyer. After whining about how impossible it was to find anything by her either new or used, I finally found these at Half-Price Books, both apparently lightly used copies. And then at Barnes & Noble the same day I found a bunch of the new reissues. Sadly, I can't really afford them. I've now seen one or two of these at Borders too. So now I know I can dream.

Anyway, both of these are rereads from my youth, though I didn't remember much about Arabella. It was moderately charming. The heroine is the eldest daughter of a parson who is respectable but not rich, given his numerous offspring. Her godmother agrees to sponsor her for a season in London. The whole family is depending on her to contract a good marriage so that she can bring out her younger sisters. En route, her borrowed carriage breaks down outside the hunting lodge of Mr. Beamarais, our hero. He's got everything--wealth, looks, high social standing. He's also got the attitude to go with it, so when she overhears him complaining to his friend of the lengths women go to when chasing him, she gets angry and pretends to be a fabulous heiress. The word gets out and suddenly she's the most sought after debutante.

This romance falls into the comedy of errors and misunderstandings category. Our hero of course guesses the truth immediately but goes along with the game (and even eggs it on), charmed by Arabella's innocence and integrity and waiting for her to trust him. She doesn't know how to confess her lie and can't accept any of the marriage proposals under false pretenses, so she's in quite a quandary. In the meantime, she embroils Beaumaris in various scrapes, and when her brother decides to acquire some town polish while on break from college, the scrapes only get worse. Of course, it all comes right in the end, thanks to our masterful hero and despite the naive heroine. Not my favorite style of romance, and this doesn't compare to April Lady in terms of naivete and romp.

The Black Moth is perhaps a little more my style. The heroine Diana is young and virtuous, like Arabella, but not quite as clueless. And her troubles are thanks to a villain--the Duke of Andover, known as Devil--rather than her own actions. But this story is less about Diana and far more about our hero Jack, who has been estranged from his family for several years, ever since he took the fall for his brother for cheating at cards--practically a hanging offense in polite society. He's making a living as a highwayman on the byways of England, having returned from living on the continent, when he interrupts an abduction. Yes, of course, the Devil and Diana. The story is also about Jack's younger brother Richard, who married Andover's sister, who has struggled (with guilt and shame) all these years between sacrificing his marriage and his brother. Then there's Sir Miles and his wife. All in all, an engaging cast of characters, lots of interesting dialogue, swordfights, chases, impersonations, and self-sacrificing honorableness and other impediments to True Love. This is the first story that Georgette Heyer ever wrote, while she was still a teenager. It's a keeper, particularly as it is part of the Alistair family collection, along with These Old Shades and Devil's Cub.

Funny how you review these two Heyers and my upcoming review is about Frederica! I felt it was the same style as The Black Moth... it was more about Lord Alverstoke than Frederica. No dashing swordfights and chases, though.

@187: Good to hear from you Steph. How did you like Frederica? I get the feeling perhaps not so much. I liked that story--I'm fond of strong heroines who manage the hero with good nature rather than being cowed or led or proved wrong by him, in other words, when they both have something to learn, or just he does, rather than the masterful hero dominating the scene. Not that he doesn't do some of that in Frederica. Of course, the young siblings made the story fun too.

Next on my list is TnT by James H. Schmitz. I debated picking this up because most of it I already own. Almost everything written by James H. Schmitz was originally published in Analog magazine as novelettes or serializations from 1965 to 1971. The only exception appears to be the cult classic The Witches of Karres, which is essentially comic fantasy in science fiction drag (my copy was published in 1966), and possibly The Universe Against Her (1964), the first Telzey Amberdon story. The stories in Analog were reissued in the 70s as novels: The Telzey Toy and Other Stories, The Lion Game (Telzey #3), and The Demon Breed--the last featuring Nile Etland (and my favorite thanks to the water world ecology). It looks like everything has been reissued again as Telzey Amberdon, TNT: Telzey & Trigger, and Trigger Argee.

This second volume of The Complete Federation of the Hub comprises "Company Planet," "Resident Witch," "Compulsion" (including "The Pork Chop Tree"), "Glory Day," "Child of the Gods," "Ti's Toys," and "The Symbiotes," as well as an afterword by the editor, Eric Flint, and a brief essay ("That Certain Something") by Guy Gordon, both names unfamiliar to me. The first three stories and "Ti's Toys" appeared in The Telzey Toy and Other Stories. The other three stories were new to me; "Glory Day" involved Trigger and Telzey together, while "Child of the Gods" was just Telzey and "The Symbiotes" was just Trigger.

As both closing essays of this volume note (as does the author information of the 70s books), James H. Schmitz wrote about incredibly strong and resourceful young women. These could easily qualify as YA, since Telzey is a teenager, albeit a precocious, gifted one who can add xenotelepathy to genius-level intelligence. He is perhaps the only male science fiction author I can think of who has strong female protagonists as solo or central characters, rather than amidst an ensemble cast or as strictly supporting characters. And he did this in the 60s in what are essentially action-adventure stories. As Guy Gordon points out, he was consciously addressing cultural biases, and part of that process was choosing gender-neutral names for all of his characters: Telzey, Trigger, Nile, Pilch, Gikkes, Hishee (all women), Ticos, Noal, Wellan, Larien (all men). Admittedly, as far as I can tell, all of his characters are white and straight, but his accomplishments are still noteworthy, particularly contrasted with the sexism of so many other writers of the day, such as James White (no matter how much I enjoy his medical xenobiology). And don't get me started on the giants: Bradbury, Asimov, Heinlein.

So were the three additional stories and two essays worth the price of the book? I don't know, I suppose so. If you've never read any of Schmitz's work, then it is definitely worth it. I was surprised to see the 2000 rerelease, which isn't new by this time, but I haven't spent much time in new bookstores for the last couple decades. New or used, his books are rare on the shelves. I would be interested in the third volume of this rerelease, because I haven't seen much of Trigger, but didn't see it when I picked up this second volume.

Hey, Chris, Demon Breed is my favorite Schmitz too! I picked up all 6 of the Baen reprints of his work as soon as they came out in the early 2000s, even though I had all the longer works. I didn't have some of the rare short story collections, and the chance to have all his works in matched sets was irresistable! So if you look at my library, I do have duplicates of his work. But I love it.

I like Frederica better than either Arabella or The Black Moth. But I love These Old Shades and Devil's Cub. With Arabella and April Lady, I tend to get really irritated with the heroines these days.

@190: Hey Roni, good to see you. I used to have Agent of Vega, and I can't believe I purged it. I don't even remember when. Writing that review last night and comparing all of the copyright pages of the books I own and reading the excellent Kagan essay on the neutral heroines of James H. Schmitz made me realize that I have not read all of his works. I don't remember when I picked up the 70s editions either, probably swiped them from my mom. I will keep my eyes open for the remaining 2000s editions because I haven't read many of the Trigger Argee stories.

I agree with your assessment of the various Heyer stories. It's funny that the things that I like about her stories are what seem to annoy many other readers: the historical details, the antiquated dialogue, the clothing, the notable people of the day...

Stupid double post! Next book on the list is Uhura's Song by Janet Kagan. I am completely unfamiliar with this author, though I am starting to take notice, given the essay mentioned above (and apparently others).

I was never a fan of the original Star Trek series. Kirk was just such a smirky asshole who dominated the show, that I couldn't enjoy all of the other characters. When The Next Generation came out, I watched it dedicatedly for the first couple of seasons, but Riker (a Kirk clone) and Wesley (and Troi) eventually got to me. Plus the shockingly poor science and procedures--Riker gets stung by some unknown life form on a completely new planet, and he shrugs off getting it checked out or even treating it as a serious concern? Please. But Jean Luc Picard was wonderful, as were the other characters and Riker wasn't quite as immediately obnoxious as Kirk, so I lasted for a couple of seasons. I also liked the little I saw of Deep Space 9 and Voyager, but just never got back into the habit.

Anyway, since I never cared for the original series, I never paid attention to the many Star Trek novels that have been written over the decades. But I did eventually try one in a moment of desperation and loved it. I believe it was Uhura's Song. Spock and Uhura (and Chekov) are the focus of much of this story, which pleased me, as well as many secondary characters who are just in this story. It's a nice blend of biology and anthropology as the crew of the Enterprise seek the mysterious home planet of a feline species that is suffering a fatal pandemic that has jumped to humans, threatening the entire Federation. Uhura's musical friendship with the Eeiauan Sunfall is the clue to finding the hidden planet and possibly the cure. And I didn't figure it out until this reread that the author refers to herself in the story with "Kagan's Law of First Contact"--"you'll surprise you more than they will." That's an amusing touch. It's a charming story with a twist at the end.

#193: I will look for that one. Like you, I was not much of a fan of the original series, but I liked TNG quite a bit.

@194: Stasia, the other Star Trek books that I consider keepers have nothing to do with the Enterprise: The Final Reflection (an exploration of Klingon culture with a cameo by Spock as a child and McCoy's grandfather) and The Romulan Way (this time explores the origins of the Rihannsu and their current culture, with only McCoy appearing from the Enterprise). I've read a few that were set on the Enterprise and their okay, but nothing real memorable. I've never tried any TNG novels.

Next are a couple of boring nonfiction self-help books: Lymphedema by Jeannie Burt and Gwen White and The Breast Cancer Prevention Diet by Bob Arnot. Both are written to help the patient with limited medical background, that is, the average layperson with a personal interest in the topics.

Lymphedema is swelling caused by the buildup of lymph fluid as a result of damage to the lymph system interfering with its proper function. In the case of breast cancer, radiation, surgery, and sometimes even chemo and biopsies may destroy, remove, or damage the lymph nodes in the armpit especially, but also in the chest or above the collarbone. So the swelling, if it happens, tends to be limited to the arm on the side of the affected breast, and sometimes just the hand or the affected quadrant of the torso. It's a lifelong complication that may result from cancer treatment, and it is perhaps not so rare. It is also a lifetime risk--a lymphedema attack can occur many years after treatment has ended, given the right confluence of circumstances. No expiration date on this side effect. However, it is still poorly recognized as a potential issue and poorly addressed once it develops, leading to worse outcomes for the sufferers. In other words, the medical establishment tends to discount it given its supposed rarity. In all of those glossy brochures and handouts given at each stage of treatment, lymphedema is alluded to only indirectly by describing some of its symptoms or mentioning it in passing without any real explanation or listing some basic precautions without explaining what they are for. Infection is discussed more explicitly and more often. While my oncologists were less willing to let me consult the physical therapists as a precautionary measure, they did not hesitate when my left hand showed pronounced swelling one day midway through radiation. And I've been lucky so far--just that one day--but I remain vigilant (when I remember).

Anyway, all of this is a long prelude to explain that this book Lymphedema: A Breast Cancer Patient's Guide to Prevention and Healing fills a real need. It was published in 1999, but the content is still quite relevant and the need is still real. The authors are a physical therapist specializing in lymphedema care and a "former lymphedema sufferer" who helps other patients via a guided exercise program. The book is a mix of personal anecdotes, physiology overview, and specific recommendations and exercises (with accompanying drawings). It goes into a range of specific physical procedures: manual lymph drainage, scar massage, compression with bandages, compression garments, pumps, breathing, and some weight training. They also discuss the role of emotions, stress, spiritual needs, and nutritional supplements. A list of resources and suppliers is included. Each chapter includes notes giving the specifics of the relevant medical studies and other literature cited, so readers can go straight to the primary sources if they want. I don't know how this compares to the other books available on this topic. It was the only one I found at the local bookstore. It's a keeper for me, despite the massively curling paper covers.

The next book, The Breast Cancer Prevention Diet: The Powerful Foods, Supplements, and Drugs That Can Save Your Life, was written by a medical journalist whose wife has a high risk of developing breast cancer, thanks to her family medical history. It was a very accessible book, with very specific recommendations in terms of diet and supplements and their potential benefits and risks. It is organized in terms of interrupting the breast cancer pathway through the "estrogen effect": block estrogen receptors, reduce "bad," "strong," and "chemical" estrogens and increase "good" estrogens (change fats, avoid pesticides), reduce estrogen production (low-fat diet, lower body fat), reduce the free estrogen in circulation (increase fiber), and otherwise interfere with the estrogen effect and cancer initiation and growth (lower insulin levels, alcohol intake, glucose load, and oxidative load). The book references a great many studies, but few specific citations are provided, making it more difficult for the reader to follow-up. The dietary suggestions are the sort that we hear all the time for general health or cardiac health or to avoid colon cancer or to reduce the risk of diabetes (I could go on): more fiber, more fruits and vegetables, more whole grains, more fish, less processed foods, less red meat, less simple sugars and trans fats. And the epitomes are the Mediterranean diet and the Asian diet, which he focuses on in the final chapters. He also provides specific recommendations for young girls to reduce their lifetime risk, cancer survivors to minimize the risk of recurrence, and women with either high or low levels of estrogen. All of the information is specific, detailed, easy to digest, and repeated in various ways.

I'd like to pass the book along to my sister-in-law, since my niece qualifies as being at risk. Once again, I don't know how this compares to other similar books. However, I think it is helpful, since, once again, oncologists are not so good at answering dietary questions and most nutritionists are not necessarily informed about the specifics of certain cancers. Patients can't do much about many of the potential risk factors involved in cancer, particularly environmental causes--there's a reason for the term cancer clusters (also see "Clan of the One-Breasted Women" by Terry Tempest Williams, specifically discussing breast cancer incidence in her family)--at least with respect to their own situations, but patients do have control over diet and exercise and personal stress and coping, and I believe these can play a tremendous role in health and medical outcomes. So this book is an encouragement to make the effort to improve diet.

If you're going to look at cancer-prevention books, you might consider The China Study. My dad has the same credentials as the author and was impressed with the guy's science.

@197: Thank you for the suggestion. I go through alternating phases of educating myself and wanting to get on with my life. I've recently read Superfoods HealthStyle and The Longevity Code and The South Beach Diet as well, though in a general way I don't read much in the self-help category. I do always find the mandatory personal anecdotes in this genre interesting.

#195: Thanks for the recommendations. I will look for those.

I was just on MM's thread and saw it's your first year to document. Almost the same for me. At the end of the month it will have been one year for me. I've learned a lot about myself LOL!

#188: I liked Frederica fine, so far it has been my favourite Heyer. I just thought that the story centered around Alverstoke more. He's the one seemed to change and grow as a person, while Frederica stayed the same awesome self.

@199: Stasia, I hope you enjoy them once you get around to them.

@200: suslyn--Congratulations! I too have learned about myself. I've been stressed and worried about obligations too much this year, hence so many rereads. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to write reviews for old favorites :).

@201: Maybe that's why I like Frederica--she's got it all together and the hero is the one who needs to get on the clue train.

Only six books and then I'm caught up! Next on the list is Hounds of God, the third and final book of the Hound and the Falcon trilogy and The Dagger and the Cross, sequel to Alamut, both by Judith Tarr. Of the five books involving Rhiyanans (or magical Fair Folk), The Hounds of God is the only one that takes place, though only in part, in the Kingdom of Rhiyana. I reread this out of sequence because I like the interactions between Alf and the saintly Fra Giovanni, as well as the reunion between Alf and Thea that so discomfits Simon Magus. But I get ahead of myself...

At the opening of the book, Alf and Thea, the romantic center of the trilogy, have been happily settled in the court of Rhiyana for some period of time, and Thea is expecting to give birth soon. Alf's devoted friend Jehan from the first book is now a bishop and visits on the way to his new see to warn the Rhiyanans of a papal embassy that includes members of the Order of St. Paul to visit the witch kingdom and possibly pronounce anathema and crusade. During the embassy, not long after Thea gives birth to a boy and a girl, an unknown powerful enemy strikes from a distance--killing and kidnapping. So Alf, Jehan, and Alf's adopted brother Nikki (from The Golden Horn) head to Rome to seek their missing loved ones and face the unprecedented magical power supporting the fanatical hatred of the Paulines, while Rhiyana prepares for invasion.

This book nicely ties together separate threads (and supporting characters) from the first two books. Once again, it is well steeped in the details of daily life in a medieval urban center. The story explores the tension between worldly authority and spiritual calling by touching on the politics of the Roman Catholic church, in terms of both papal succession and differences among religious orders and houses. This is played out not only between various religious characters including Pope Honorius himself, but also within Alf who spent his early decades as a monk and is truly called to serve God at the same time that he is the Lord of Broceliande and the White Chancellor of Rhiyana, knight and lover and father. It also explores some of the shadier motivations behind crusading movements, and the trauma and madness of being hated and feared and "othered" for one's essential nature by everyone, alone without love. I liked it and thought it was an excellent resolution to the story arc while exploring various questions of identity and religion.

The Dagger and the Cross was the sequel to Alamut, taking place ten years later. At the end of Alamut, Prince Aidan vowed to marry Morgiana in Jerusalem in front of the Patriarch. However, neither will renounce their faith, so a papal dispensation is necessary for the marriage to be sanctioned and recognized by Christian authorities, thanks to the cultus disparatus policy. This book opens with the arrival of the Rhiyanan fleet carrying King Gwydion and the papal legate with the necessary paperwork. As the wedding preparations go ahead, so does a conspiracy to foil the marriage. In the midst of this personal turmoil, various political and military incidents lead to the imminent invasion of the Kingdom of Jerusalem by Saladin. Prince Aidan and Morgiana quarrel (because he's an ass) and proceed to serve the Christian and Muslim kings, respectively, during the ensuing battle.

The book goes on from there, involving a few subplots with a host of supporting characters. Judith Tarr loves the romantic storylines. In this one it is Princess Elen, the mortal grandniece of Gwydion and Aidan, who is mourning the death of her husband. And then there's Aidan's daughter, the product of his brief affair with Joanna during her estrangement from her husband in Alamut. Ysabel takes after her unacknowledged father and is a rebellious ten-year-old who doesn't get along with her older brother Aimery (the reason for that early estrangement), who hero-worships Prince Aidan. Once again, the details of the real historical figures and events and daily life are excellent. It is a charming story that will bear rereading and clearly foreshadows the events in The Hound and Falcon trilogy, most particularly the final book, The Hounds of God.

Driving Force is the only book by Dick Francis currently in my possession. During my peripatetic youth, I used to haunt used bookstores to frequently exchange cheap books during my travels. Several novels by Dick Francis passed through my hands in this fashion, though most have been borrowed from the library. I think I've read almost everything of his, starting with Flying Finishand I've generally enjoyed them. They are shallow action-adventures with the classic steely, indomitable hero who's just an average joe facing bad guys of one persuasion or another, usually involving some sort of race-fixing scheme. Kind of like modern Alistair MacLean novels, but not quite as formulaic and generally treating women characters better. The heroes are all essentially the same, but he mixes up their background and personal life from story to story.

Dick Francis used to be a steeplechase jockey, but retired while still relatively young due to injuries, I believe. He then became a sports columnist (this is my hazy memory from early author information from dust jackets) and eventually a quite successful novelist. Not surprisingly, all of his stories have some connection (however slim) to horse racing, especially the early ones, which tended to feature jockeys. But other heroes have included horse breeder, trainer, racehorse owner, transporter, track accountant, veterinarian, racetrack owner, sports photographer, Jockey Club security. Branching more widely, he has done his research to feature glassblower, painter, meteorologist, architect, banker, kidnapping consultant, wine merchant, actor, diplomat, physics teacher, inventor. They've all been white and straight, of course. Love interests include happily married, unhappily married, bachelor meeting girl during story, divorced meeting woman during story, widowered, and so on. Exactly one story out of more than 30 featured any gay characters (that would be the photographer who was mentored by a gay couple), and one story featured a black woman I think (that would be the journalist with the wife living in an iron lung or something similar). The diplomat spoke Japanese, so there was also some minority presence in that story too. Wait, Chico Barnes is Latino--he's in the first couple of stories featuring Sid Halley (Odds Against and Whip Hand). And then there's Aziz in Driving Force. So there you go--a token for the major minority groups. I always enjoy reading about British racing culture and horses. The characters are engaging but not particularly deep. They are human enough to usually be coping with some sort of problem (in addition to the adventurous plotline). The stories are fast-paced, generally predictable, but fun enough. And of course, the bad guys always lose in the end.

Driving Force features Freddy, a retired professional jockey who has moved into running a fleet of horse vans. When a hitchhiker winds up dead in one of the company vehicles and they discover containers hidden under some of the vans, the plot begins to unfold at a fast pace. He enlists the assitance, or at least witness, of the Jockey Club as he attempts to determine what is going on. Eventually, he calls upon his sister the chemist to help, and she flies down from Scotland in her jointly owned personal helicopter. Yowza, but not too surprising in a Dick Francis story where the hero often drives a sportscar memento of racing days (as is the case here). As always, the hero is charming, understated, smart, and often underrated. The personal complication in this story is the fact that back in his jockey days he got the trainer's daughter pregnant, but she decided to marry someone else. They're all part of the same small racing village, but it's unacknowledged ancient history; the old flame is happily married with several children, and he can only sigh wistfully from afar at might-have-beens, at least until he meets a potential new love interest in the course of his investigations. It's a nice, light read, an easy way to pass some time.

The next book on my list is The Raven Ring by Patricia C. Wrede. It is one of her Lyra novels, all of which I consider YA fantasy. Lyra is a land dominated by humans that is also home to three magical peoples: Shee (elf types), Neira (vaguely reptilian water types), and Wyrd (furry catlike woodsy types). There's also the Shadow-born--malevolent creatures without bodies (demons, in effect)--that were defeated in the ancient Wars of Binding. I'm pretty sure that Caught in Crystal is the first in chronological order (though published later), occurring much earlier than all of the others, because the Isle of Varna is still above water and the Wyrds and other magical races are still coexisting with humans. The prelude of that story (an excerpt from a later history book) references the heroine in Shadow Magic. And The Harp of Imach Thyssel takes place after Shadow Magic. I'm not sure where Daughter of Witches and The Raven Ring fit into the general chronology because those stories do not allude to the other novels that I recall.

Anyway, every story involves some threat involving the Shadow-born, I think, and every story involves at least one Cilhar character. The Cilhar are famous warriors, an entire culture built around weapons skills, who often leave their home territory of the Mountains of Morravik to find work as bodyguards and other similar positions. They're always the good guys and they have quite the strong honor code: the epitome of hero. And unlike many of the other cultures portrayed in Wrede's novels, they are quite egalitarian. Because they have endured centuries of raids and warfare with Syaskor, they are essentially a militarized society where everyone, man, woman, and child is expected to help with home defense. So there aren't any specific gender roles as such.

This story is about Eleret, a Cilhar girl, who travels to the capital city to retrieve her mother's personal effects after her mother dies during a military campaign abroad. But there's something mysterious about her mother's death, and apparently someone is very interested in her mother's personal effects. So while she tries to figure out what is going on and who she can trust, she is also coping with the cultural differences and her own grief.

Of course, all of the characters are white and straight. However, this story does take a look at social expectations, gender roles, assumptions and privilege, and how these differ according to culture. It's also a bit of a romance, which of course plays on exactly these misunderstandings. It's a charming, sweet little story that explores the Cilhar, who have played pivotal roles in the other Lyra stories. So Patricia Wrede certainly does a better job of representation and thinking about social context for her story here than, say, her latest novel The Thirteenth Child, which has generated some discussion and possibly even controversy.

I am currently reading Wrede's Dragon series, but I think I will take a look at the Lyra series next. Thanks for the recommendation, Chris.

@206: Stasia, how do you like the dragon books? I never got around to them, I'm afraid.

Kate by Veronica Heley (please note that I couldn't find the correct touchstone) is next on the list.

This is a Victorian romance novel. It is a favorite for a variety of reasons. The heroine Kate is not the beautiful, rich, accomplished woman who has it all. In fact, she's rather the antiheroine: she's not necessarily very attractive, doesn't dress well, is effectively rather middle class, and lacks many of the feminine accomplishments and traits expected by historical society and modern readers of escapist romance fiction set in earlier, often idealized periods. Her family engages in that evil word Trade, since they own a department store, and so she has connections to the gentry but isn't perhaps quite as respectable and respected as her cousins of leisure. Moreover, this is a time period that I haven't explored in terms of the romance genre, rather the mystery genre. It is an interesting age--the Industrial Revolution in full swing, with the sweeping socioeconomic changes that accompanied it.

I must digress for a moment to explain why I read romances in the first place. It is a genre that generally relies on shallow stereotypes, hackneyed plots, and uninspiring dialogue. But I find that some stories have great value for me in the emotional truth that they can carry. Romances are ultimately about relationships--how they grow and die and sometimes transform--and personal growth, as characters learn and grow and transform (but usually don't die). And then there's also social context--how do expectations, obligations, history affect and constrain the dynamics within and between characters. So what interest me most are stories with some dimensionality, some nuance, some introspection, some awareness of important social issues and the too often personal costs. Not perfect characters who have everything and can do no wrong, good guys and villains, inevitable happy endings, and other flat, unoriginal (but sometimes entertaining), and eminently forgettable stories.

This novel has all of that. As I mentioned, Kate is an antiheroine. And the hero Max Trent also lacks many of the social advantages. He is well bred and well educated, but poor with no immediate family, relying on more distant connections for opportunities. However, he does have good prospects: a future political career and engagement to the local princess, the classic heroine (feminine, beautiful, sensitive, etc.) who happens to be Kate's cousin. Then calamity strikes. He is sent to prison for six months for assault and battery--he loses his home, his career, his fiance, everything. The story opens with his release, and Kate waiting to pick him up out of the gutter and to offer him a deal. This is very much a story of hardship and hard-earned trust and love. It is also a story of social privilege and its abuse, and therefore the personal costs. It is well told, understated, with good dialogue and minimal exposition.

Chris, I am enjoying the Dragon books. They are YA, bear in mind, and I especially enjoyed the first one. I am only up to book 3 in the series, but I imagine that I will finish them off. I am also currently reading the series that Wrede wrote with Caroline Stevermer.

@209: I stumbled over the first book with Caroline Stevermer a couple years ago and enjoyed it a great deal. I have not yet managed to get my hands on others in that series. Someday...

The next book is the latest Patricia Briggs novel, Hunting Ground, the second featuring Anna and Charles. I was quite surprised to see this in paperback, since as far as I know the fourth Mercy Thompson book (Bone Crossed) is still only in hardcover. I often don't bother to read the advertising on the end pages, so I wasn't aware of Hunting Ground until I was browsing the bookstore last week.

Before reading it I scanned the available reviews on LT. Most were short and fanatically positive. One was long, analytical, and mixed (thanks devilwrites!), so I went into it with a general idea of the plot and key characters.

This is the sequel to Cry Wolf, which takes place around the same time as the later events in Moon Called, the first Mercy Thompson novel. This .takes place some indeterminate time soon after Cry Wolf and kinda also during Moon Called, if that's possible. The two Alpha and Omega books are very similar to each other and fairly different from the Mercy Thompson books. Cry Wolf and Hunting Ground feature Anna and Charles primarily, introduce assorted secondary werewolf characters, and serve to elaborate how her werewolves work in terms of magic, pack dynamics, and so on. In some ways these stories are somewhat gratuitous vehicles for revealing the mechanics of her fantasy world. Meet new character. Meet unexpected danger that is associated with that new character. Overcome obstacles and save the day. Flesh out the protagonists some more, show how their relationship is developing, give some depth to the key secondary character, but everyone else--minimal characterization to forward the plot. While fast-paced, action-packed, and engrossing, the flow of events doesn't really mean anything personal to the heroes. They're just responding to larger events and aren't necessarily transformed by the experience. Still quite enjoyable, but not as satisfying as the Mercy Thompson novels.

Third-person narration allows jumping among various POVs including Anna, Charles, and a couple of throwaway victims, which is necessary to share important plot points that are outside our protagonists' range. The gist of the story: the representatives from the European packs are meeting in Seattle to negotiate concessions to ameliorate the negative repercussions of the U.S. werewolves going public. Charles convinces Bran to let him and Anna represent the Marrok, thanks to premonitions of some danger. Sure enough, a squad of vampires attacks Anna and her escorts during a shopping trip, and it proceeds from there. The weird part was Anna turning criminal psychologist at a crime scene. I liked further development of Anna's musical background and the costs of being the official enforcer. But there were way too many new faces, and it's so hard to tell which ones are keepers and which are just background scenery for this story alone. Once again, a couple of strong women characters whom the men underestimate, a few minorities salted through the mix. I liked it well enough and will doubtless reread it.

I also read Homecoming, the graphic novel that acts as something of an origins story for Mercy Thompson. I thought they did a good job with it. Some characters did not look at all as I envisioned them: Stefan, Uncle Mike, Adam Hauptman. And it was awfully pat that Mercy meets all of the key characters in essentially the same time period (everyone except Tony the cop and Warren). There are some possible continuity errors: the novels give the impression that Siebold Adelbertsmiter just paid protection money to the vampires so that he didn't have to interact with them, yet here they are getting a car fixed at his garage, which was Mercy's deal when she took over the garage, being unable to afford the monthly premiums. Second, Stefan pegs immediately that she's a walker and makes it clear to another vampire (and various others) that she's not human, yet in the novels, this is something he's kept hidden from the other vampires. Third, at the end of this graphic novel, Adam points out that he's moving into the McMansion directly behind Mercy's newly rented trailor, but the novels suggest that he had the place built some time after she'd already been living there. These are all mere quibbles. I liked the style, and the storyline fit Mercy's character. And it's a very quick read, followed by an interview that involves a certain amount of backpatting between Patricia Briggs and David Lawrence (the writer who adapted the story to comic book format).

I received a slew of free books from my querido, all of which were cast-offs from one or more people. I parlayed most of those into a BookMooch inventory just recently, after sitting on them for many, many months. A few I set aside as potentially. One was Aztec Blood by Gary Jennings. I like historical fiction and I have a connection to Latin America, so it seemed like a good fit. I read the first chapter and that was enough for me. I have reached an age when I am surfeited with violence and suffering, particularly as entertainment. So I watch few American dramas anymore. And after an epistolary opening that lovingly detailed the torture methods used by a member of the Spanish Inquisition, I was done with this book.

So I moved on to Stone Monkey by Jeffery Deaver. The cover indicated that this was a Lincoln Rhyme mystery, clearly part of a long-running series, since Lincoln was a quadriplegic consultant to the police, having once been an investigator before his injuries. A character has to have a few successful novels under his belt before the author takes him in such an unusual direction. This was a drama with its share of violence and cruelty, but the story was told quite compassionately, and most of the characters were dismayed to varying degrees (rather than hardened) by the crimes of the villain, known as the Ghost for his strong survival instincts that have kept him unphotographed and out of law enforcement traps.

This is a humane look at human smuggling from southern China to New York, the plights of political dissidents and illegal immigrants (or undocumented, if you prefer that parlance), and a brief introduction to some aspects of Chinese culture. The story opens with a Chinese freighter approaching Long Island being intercepted by the Coast Guard under the remote supervision of a multijurisdiction task force involving NYPD, FBI, INS, and who knows what other agencies, operating from the command center in Lincoln Rhyme's living room. The plan goes awry when the freighter sinks and at least two life boats make shore, allowing the Ghost and some Chinese families (14 people total) to escape. It becomes a race between the Ghost and law enforcement to find the witnesses who have gone into hiding, as they also seek to apprehend the sociopathic, millionaire criminal.

Deaver clearly has a handful of beloved characters in the series, besides Lincoln Rhyme: Amelia Sachs, his able protege and lover; Fred Dellray, the African-American FBI agent leading this operation; and Lt. Lon Sellitto, NYPD homicide detective. There's a certain amount of personal interactions among these that make it clear they have a long history and that are intended to add to character development during the series. Additional law enforcement supporting characters are Eddie Deng, a Chinese-Amercian detective to help with interpreting, Alan Coe, an apparently quite bigoted INS agent who has field experience in southeast Asia, and a surprising Chinese policeman.

The story is told in third person, with POVs shifting among Lincoln, Amelia, the Chinese policeman, the freighter captain, the Ghost, and two (or maybe three) of the surviving refugees from the freighter (the male heads of the two families). Each section of the story opens with the starting and ending times of the action in Chinese and American reckoning and a quote from a book called The Game of Wei-Chi, which is apparently a go manual. These help set the mood for each part of the story, which is generally fast-paced. There are a few plot twists and red herrings, some of which were quite predictable, some not so much. I figured out the main bad guy but not his exact role/identity. The contrast between science-based intuition and cultural intuition to find clues was both shrewd and entertaining and showed that both are necessary and effective. The sappy ending I suppose was predictable, though still one last opportunity for a personal twist.

Since this is a story about human smuggling from China, many of the characters are not white, and Deaver does a good job making most of them individuals, rather than stereotyped cardboard cutouts. And the most swashbuckling, adventuresome, risk-taking person was Amelia--fast cars, diving into the sea to rescue someone, handling evidence collection at every crime scene, including the one underwater, getting into gunfights. She was also the best person at getting inside the Ghost's head to analyze crime scenes and find leads. In other words, nearly all of the standard male hero characteristics and activities were fulfilled by her. Mind you, there weren't really any other notable female characters that I recall. The female refugees are generally weak or helpless or self-absorbed and barely get any attention, except as some form of leverage or liability for their male family members (or law enforcement seeking them). But Amelia was quite kick-ass. And Dellray was clearly the top law enforcement dog (now that Lincoln Rhyme is an adjunct, doubtless). I don't remember seeing any gay characters, but hey, disabled, strong women, some minorities--that's pretty good. Even the bigot has his nice points. Of course, we can guess just which of the good guys gets sacrificed to add a little pathos and righteous fury.

A Mind to Murder is my first P. D. James novel, apparently the second in the series featuring Inspector Adam Dalgliesh. I've seen a few Mystery! productions adapted from the books and enjoyed them. This is one of the cheap and easy books I picked up at the library book sale last weekend. It was a day of book buying, because we hit a couple of bookstores too. But back to the story.

The adminsitrative officer for a private psychiatric clinic is found murdered in the file room, and clearly one of the staff is the guilty party. Dalgliesh and his able assistant Martin investigate over the course of a few days and eventually catch the murderer. The story is told in third person, mostly from Dalgliesh's perspective, though it also switched at least once to each of the potential suspects, and some more than others. It did keep me guessing up until the end, so that's pretty good (not that I'm necessarily any great shakes at figuring out the mystery ahead of the protagonist). There's some effort to develop Dalgliesh as a character, clearly building upon the earlier book, but I didn't really connect with him or any of the other characters, since none of the characterizations felt particularly deep or personal. And frankly, most of the characters just weren't very likable, so I was fine when the story ended. Why would I spend my time with people I don't really like, after all? It was moderately entertaining and a quick read. And not being a completely predictable plot with predictable villain is a plus. I won't be keeping this, but I didn't consider it a complete waste of time.

I like both the Lincoln Rhyme and Adam Dalgliesh series. What can I say? I am simple minded.

@214: I hope no insult was taken. Both stories were fine, and I enjoyed them moderately, but neither was particularly memorable or noteworthy, beyond the fact that the Lincoln Rhyme books appear to be a cut above the usual books in that particular style. I seem to prefer historical fiction a lot more, perhaps because even if the story is nothing wonderful, I still come away learning something about the era. I really like both Anne Perry series, featuring Thomas & Charlotte Pitt and Monk & Hester Latterly. The plots end up being somewhat predictable, but the characters are extremely well done, and ultimately every one of her crime novels explores some social ill. I am always interested in the larger context or learning something, even from my escapist fiction.

Next on my list is Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold. And after this, I won't have any list because I'll be caught up!

I acquired this last week as part of my book-buying excursion, and then I decided to reread it, since it's a new addition to my library that I had read only once before, last year, as part of my Hugo-winner quest. Lois McMaster Bujold has won four Hugos for best novel, three for books in her Miles Vorkosigan science fiction stories, one for Paladin of Souls, the follow-up to The Curse of Chalion. Since she had won so many awards for noncontiguous storylines, I decided to just read all of it in order, digesting the Hugo winners along the way. I generally liked the stories and characters, and I certainly appreciated what she was trying to do with the science fiction. She's exploring an extremely patriarchal (sexist!), militaristic (ableist!) society from the perspectives of an extremely capable, strong female outsider (Cordelia, the mother of Miles) and a physically disabled young man (Miles Vorkosigan) while subverting the hero tropes of traditional space operas. She certainly has a way with dialogue, some fascinating ideas that she explores, and a great sense of the comic. But the books that won Hugos were by no means my favorites: Barrayar, The Vor Game, and Mirror Dance. Well, okay, maybe Barrayar. But the dinner scene in A Civil Campaign has to rank as one of the most memorable in my experience.

But on to the fantasy series. Once again, while I liked Paladin of Souls okay, I preferred The Curse of Chalion. The protagonist, Lupe dy Cazaril, or Caz, is limping home a broken man. Well, he doesn't really have a home anymore, so he's hoping to find refuge in the home of the patron of his youth. He used to be a lord and knight but most recently was a slave. The widow of his former patron takes him in, sees his potential, and appoints him to tutor her granddaughter, a member of the royal family. Soon enough he is caught up in larger events involving his old enemies, court intrigues, and even the gods. Once again, good characters, interesting ideas, lots of action in the plot, nice dialogue. The things that make this book stand out: the limits of human endurance and discovering that they are much further than dreamed possible, the wisdom and perspective that comes with age and a life rich in experience, growing into leadership and understanding the dynamics of power, the strength of personal integrity to survive hardship and find the right path, the relationship between the divine/spiritual and the material planes and differences in theology and how they connect to cultural differences. The downsides: everyone's white, so no real racial diversity though some cultural diversity; most of the key players including the protagonist are men. The upsides: every woman character is strong and unique, even the ones that appear weak at first; some of the characters are gay--it is in fact a point of cultural/theological difference and a key plot element. And it is a very realistic portrayal of the emotional and physical damages that accumulate in war and servitude. The hero suffers but still succeeds in the end.

#215: No, no offense taken, Chris. I did not mean to imply that you did offend.

Have you tried Anne Perry's WWI series? If not, I recommend it, especially since you like historic fiction.

@217: I haven't tried that series, in fact, I don't recall seeing anything like it on the library shelves. I will look for it.

I have house guests right now, so the remaining review will be slightly delayed...

Kaleidoscope by Dorothy Gilman is my first BookMooch item. It is the sequel to The Clairvoyant Countess. I am generally fond of Gilman's works. They are generally light, fluffy, heartwarming, simple. She has a fondness for the Romany and the paranormal--both turn up fairly frequently in her stories.

Kaleidoscope features Madame Karitska, a psychic with a colorful past who does readings from her home. Many of the characters from the first book reappear here, as do some of the plot elements including a fateful dinner party. This book nominally takes place a year or so after the events of The Clairvoyant Countess, which could not be clearly pegged to a particular date but felt like the 1970s. This book references 9/11 and other recent events in U.S. history. Once again, a range of clients and incidents eventually lead to a single interlaced pattern. Starting with local criminals and domestic problems, it progresses to a cult and domestic terrorism. Dorothy Gilman likes to neatly match up single characters (all straight of course), and this story is no different with two couples coming together. Unlike her usual upbeat message, this book ends on a somewhat ominous note. The plight of the Romany is mentioned, including their persecution in Nazi Germany and general prejudice against them in the U.S. While most of the characters in the book are white, there are a couple of African Americans--one is running a shoestring charity in a bad neighborhood, the other is a medical doctor who apparently emigrated from a country in Africa. They are sympathetically portrayed, but I find it curious that when Madame Karitska is faced with a client who appears to be dying for no clear reason and who spent time in Africa, her obvious solution is to go talk to the (one) African-American of her acquaintance, who of course knows an African doctor who can deal with what appears to be witchcraft. She also confronts Old World (as in European) witchcraft, or at least superstition. If you liked the first book, then look for this one, since it is very similar.

#219: I did like the first book, so I will read the second as well. Thanks for the review, Chris.

@220: Thanks, Stasia. I can thank LT for pointing me to the sequel.

Next on my list is Strong Poison by Dorothy L. Sayers. This was another super-cheap booksale impulse buy. I had seen reviews on LT of her works and decided it was worth trying one. This is a Lord Peter Wimsey murder mystery, somewhere in the middle of the series. I believe this is set in the late 1920s.

The book opens with Harriet Vane on trial for poisoning her ex-lover with arsenic, just before the jury is sequestered for a verdict, with the judge summing up the case. Harriet Vane is a moderately successful murder mystery author who recently researched arsenic poisoning for her latest novel. Lord Peter Wimsey apparently attended the trial and fell in love with the defendant and has decided to find the real murderer. He already has a reputation as a highly successful amateur sleuth with connections to Scotland Yard, not to mention great personal wealth and family connections as the brother of a duke.

The actual murderer was not difficult to figure out early on. The plot was not particularly complicated or subtle. This is very much a character-driven series. I must say that Peter's dialogue is quite odd, eccentric, idiosyncratic, full of literary allusions and period slang. It is worth reading the books, perhaps, just to hear him speak. Particularly amusing was his reference to Jeeves (as in P. G. Wodehouse's Jeeves and Wooster) when admonishing his valet, Bunker.

The other interesting item was the treatment of women. While Sayers's protagonist is male, many of the pivotal clues are discovered by his female allies/employees. In effect, he has created a detective agency employing strictly women (fondly called "The Cattery"), which allows him to inveigle someone into suspicious households and businesses in the guise of domestic servants, clerical employees, and so on to gather the important clues and evidence. This works because women are so often invisible, downtrodden, and otherwise suffer under the oppressive society that provides them so few opportunities to exist outside of marriage and well-to-do families. Many of the women employed by the agency would be destitute without this rare and discreet job opportunity. Hence they are certainly loyal to Lord Peter and very dedicated in their work. Regardless of its effectiveness as a plot device, it provides an interesting perspective on the society of the day. None of the characters is particularly deep, but they are individuals.

So I may try other books from the library, but I'm not interested enough to add this series to my own collections. I'll be giving this copy away. It was enjoyable enough, worth the read, but not a keeper for me.

The Clairvoyant Countess is one of my favorite comfort reads. I love how all the different episodic stories come together into a connected story line. I did not like Kaleidoscope as well--this could be simply because it wasn't TCC, or that I didn't think the story meshed as well. However, I need to read it another time or two and see if it seasons well with age.

#221 - If you're giving it away via Bookmooch, I'll gladly mooch it from you!
I'm slowly working my way through that series but I'm only at book #3.

If you've already given it away or promised it - that's fine. But it can't hurt to ask, right?? :D

@222: Hey Roni, I too am very fond of The Clairvoyant Countess. You may not like Kaleidoscope quite as well because it is more of the same without the charm of originality this time.

@223: Yes, I'll most likely be using BookMooch, Angela (despite the fact that my mom is planning on taking home most of my listed inventory). If I can figure out how to do it, I'll reserve it for you.

Thanks so much!!

@225: Angela, glad I could oblige. Most likely it'll be sent tomorrow when I run errands.

Next book to review is my first Diana Wynne Jones: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci: Volume 1. This author has come highly recommended by various people, particularly ronincats. So when I found this omnibus edition in the discount rack I did not hesitate to put money down.

PLEASE NOTE THIS REVIEW WILL BE FULL OF SPOILERS
This omnibus edition features Charmed Life and The Lives of Christopher Chant, both very much young adult fantasy. In the first, Eric Chant, called Cat, is the protagonist, though it is his older sister Gwendolyn who drives much of the plot. In the second, Christopher Chant is the protagonist. Both are boys of indeterminate age but apparently preadolescent. The two stories are presented in publication order rather than chronologically, since Christopher Chant is the adult Chrestomanci of the first story.

What is the Chrestomanci you ask? It is the one person who has nine lives and thus is an enchanter so powerful that he (so far all of the people mentioned as holding this position are male) can keep all of the magical people with bad tendencies in line. How does this guy end up with nine lives? Well, you see, there are different worlds (the alternate histories idea), organized into series. The magicians in this magical world have identified 12 series of parallel worlds, and generally each series consists of 9 closely related worlds, except for series 11, which appears to be only a single world. So a person who has no duplicates in any of the other worlds in the series ends up with all of the lives himself (once again, only males as far as I've seen). Both Cat and Christopher live in series 12 in an alternate England where there's magic rather than technology. So Chrestomanci is employed by the government to keep the worst excesses of evil magical people under control and this person lives in an enchanted castle with a magical garden and quite a staff of domestic servants.

In Charmed Life, Cat and his sister Gwendolyn become orphans at the beginning of the story. Gwendolyn is a witch with lots of potential, so she gets magic lessons from the necromancer next door. She writes a letter to Chrestomanci and the two orphans are taken to Chrestomanci castle. Gwendolyn thinks this is the beginning of her destiny to rule the world, and she throws increasingly larger magical tantrums when she's generally dismissed and treated as a rather spoiled and ignorant child. Neither she nor Cat has figured out that this isn't about her at all, it's about him. Gwendolyn runs away (magically of course, even though her magic was taken away), leaving a double from a parallel world (apparently just like ours) in her place. Janet (the new girl) and Cat find themselves over their heads in the mess that Gwendolyn has created: owing money for magical contraband, challenged to a magical duel for changing the serving girl into a frog, and strongarmed into the necromancer's nefarious plot to seize power, while fending off the attacks from Julia, Chrestomanci's daughter who's holding a grudge against Gwendolyn and hasn't figured out the switch.

This is very much a children's story, with the protagonists apparently unable to turn to adults for help, even though that is the obvious solution and the competent adults are giving them plenty of opportunities to ask for help--including Chrestomancie, his nice wife Millie, and the tutor. And of course, Cat goes along passively with his sister's misdeeds right up until the bitter end. I suppose this could be considered an example of learned helplessness. Of course, it's all made right in the end; Cat learns that he has his own magic and how to use it. The wicked magic-users are defeated (barely) and the older sister is pretty effectively banished.

It's generally charming and entertaining and well written. I particularly liked the portrayal of children's lives--from eating magical gingerbread men to tea in the schoolroom to playtime with animated soldiers. I just wanted to kick Cat for crying "woe is me" and doing nothing for far too long. And the weakest point is just how the hell his older sister managed to take advantage of his magic all these years, particularly without any real training. She extracted his nine lives and place them in an enchanted pack of matches. That would seem to be pretty advanced stuff. In fact, in The Lives of Christopher Chant, the adult guardians of the boy hero do effectively the same sort of thing for his protection since he's gone and carelessly lost so many of his lives already. And it's clear that it was not an easy spell. And then Gwendolyn burns one of his lives whenever it's convenient--how does that work? How is it that a teenage(?) girl ends up being the biggest villain and the worst danger? That's my biggest beef with it--to me it doesn't make sense that she could parasitize him quite without training, but hey, not my world or magical system.

Christopher Chant isn't an orphan. Instead, he's effectively raised by an every-changing sequence of servants while his parents exist in a state of perpetual warfare and take no interest in their only child. He can travel to all of the worlds and all of the series (well, except #11) in his sleep. It turns out this is called spirit walking, but it is more real for him--he has an actual physical presence and he can bring things back with him from his travels. And so he consoles himself in his loneliness by endless nights of visits to other worlds making friends wherever he goes and during the day playing with the few toys from these expeditions that he manages to bring back. His uncle learns his secret and asks him to perform some experiments. This is how Christopher meets Tacroy, a more conventional spirit walker (who relies on music and incense and trances to travel) hired by Uncle Ralph to supervise Christopher's actions.

Christopher and Tacroy go on many missions to bring things back from other worlds. One of the first items is a cat from the Temple of Asheth, where Christopher meets a young girl who is the living goddess, in effect an avatar. The two young people agree to a trade: the most obnoxious and troublesome cat in exchange for some exciting novels from elsewhere to while away the long hours of isolation in the temple. However, Christopher is speared by temple guards while trying to escape with the cat. He's presumed dead, but then he wakes up at home with the cat, so apparently everything is okay. But then in the struggle with the cat, he gets impaled by a curtain rod--apparently dead again. But wait, he wakes up just fine. It was just a little misunderstanding. Then Christopher goes to boarding school and eventually resumes more missions for his uncle. He also eventually returns to the temple with some books for the living goddess. They strike up a friendship, and he continues to visit her. Once again, something goes awry on a mission to another world, but he wakes up fine. Then once again he dies in a bizarre cricket accident. This time there are too many witnesses to ignore the fact that he did die but now he's not dead. So he winds up at Chrestomanci Castle with the expectation that he'll be the next big guy. But he hates it there. No one asked about his wishes. Eventually he hears about The Wraith, some sort of black market kingpin who's been smuggling incredible quantities of illicit magical items from other worlds. Can we guess the connection? Of course, but it takes Christopher way, way too long to figure out that his uncle is using him just like everyone else, and in fact worse, because he's causing a lot of harm along the way. Before that realization hits, the living goddess follows him back to his own world. She just wants to live a normal life with boarding school and friends and everything else she read about in those stories about Millie. And she doesn't want to die, since the goddess is always a child, and she's getting old. So that's another crisis that interlocks with the whole smuggling kingpin crisis.

In general, I liked this story better than Charmed Life. The hero, while slow, is actually thinking about things and discovering things and making decisions and acting on them. In other words, he's active, involved, and far more self-aware. And the developing relationship between him and Millie is sweet. He's thinking about others just as much as himself. And the comic bits are much more effective in this story than Charmed Life.

I do have one problem though, and it's big. Tacroy is the only black character in this story. In this alternate England there are apparently no racial minorities. But that's not all. It turns out that Tacroy is really from the mysterious series 11--an entire Dark World (not just a continent) of black people. Who are evil. In fact, when Tacroy confesses that he is from this mysterious unknown place, he warns them not to believe in the "Noble Savage" because they're not noble at all, just savage. Who wear furs and trinkets. They have an entire caste system built on bullying, lying, cheating, and otherwise being horrible people. In fact, they are so terrible that their souls are all deformed and ugly. So when Christopher seeks Tacroy's soul among the many disembodied souls presented by the Dright (supreme ruler of this world), he is able to find it by its beauty and purity amidst so much ugliness. After all, Tacroy didn't grow up here--he was raised in the world run by white people. He's not like other black people. It's a good thing all those blacks are living in a single closed-off world away from all the nice white people on all of the other worlds. That's pretty over the top. It would have been far better to toss in a few token secondary characters of various races as J. K. Rowling did in response to complaints. Did I mention that these stories feel like a cross between Harry Potter and A Series of Unfortunate Events?

Did I mention that these stories feel like a cross between Harry Potter and A Series of Unfortunate Events?

...except that they came first!! And must have been published a while ago - I must have read them for the first time at least 20 years ago (which may explain the racial minorities - I'm not saying it's right, just that this sort of imbalance and short-sightedness was a lot more common in fiction at that time - if it was good enough for Tolkien...).

I certainly found when reading Harry Potter that I kept thinking, oh, this reminds me of Diana Wynne Jones.

I haven't actually read the second of these, but do love Charmed Life.

1977 for Charmed Life, so you really can't accuse Jones of being derivative. In fact, I agree, Rachael, it's the other way around. Like you, when reading Harry Potter, I kept thinking how like DWJ the books were, especially the first few.

These two books are 30 and 20 years old respectively, Chris, and show their age in the way you describe. Try the Spellcoats series next, or some of her newer books.

@227: FlossieT, yup I did figure out that these stories preceded the two currently popular series, being originally published in 1977 (Charmed Life) and 1988 (The Lives of Christopher Chant). But I encountered Harry Potter and Lemony Snicket's books before DWJ. Sadly, such imbalances are still pretty amazingly common in fantasy being published today, I think. But this is well beyond imbalance and into a whole world of the worst of negative stereotypes, I'm afraid. And the sad part is, I would not have realized that reading it as a kid. I certainly didn't figure out the Christian symbolism in the Narnia books, a beloved series from my childhood. A teacher pointed it out in high school, and I was shocked. Shocked. If one completely ignores (or is completely oblivious to) the racist imagery, The Lives of Christopher Chant is a fine story. I liked it better than Charmed Life. Except for that whole race thing, which was pretty glaring to me.

@228: Roni, I agree that these did not feel derivative at all, but the flavor reminded me of the two series that I had encountered beforehand. I will certainly look for the Spellcoats books.

Great reviews! When I read them, I like that I can see your thought process and opinion on them and use that to figure out if I'd like the book.

I loved Wrede's Dragon series but, typical me, I haven't followed up on her later books. But I've got to put the Lyra series on a priority TBR. I've also never heard of The Clairvoyant Countess but everyone seems to love it, so I'll have to take a look at it.

@231: Good to hear from you Steph. It's been a little while. I have fallen behind again, thanks to some serious downtime to recuperate leading to more reading and less reviewing. I've never read Wrede's dragon series, so I guess we are rather alike in our reading habits. I've found every Gilman book I've read rather charming, but generally quite simple and treacly. Definitely in the lighthearted fluff category full of happy endings and a little bit of adventure.

Just stopping by to say hello. I hope you're doing well.

I hope you are going to be joining us for the 2010 challenge, Chris!

@233: VioletBramble, thank you for stopping by. I am doing fine at the moment. I've been rather occupied with appointments and deadlines that sprung up in the last couple of months. I am hoping to resume my book reviews this weekend. It's also taken me a while to digest The Parable of the Talents, so that's created something of a logjam.

@234: Thank you for the invite, Stasia. I was just starting to think about that. I have enjoyed the process of tracking my reading and writing reviews this year. However, it has proven to be a large time commitment, and I am perpetually falling behind. And it has prevented me in some measure from pursuing my own writings, so I am tempted, but still debating. I have very much enjoyed reading other people's threads too, though I have fallen behind on that as well in the last couple of months.

Chris, don't get too daunted! I have enjoyed our conversations, even though we have both fallen behind here and there. You should seriously think of joining in 2010 :)

@236: Steph, let's make a deal. If I manage to catch up on my book reviews in the time remaining this year, I'll go ahead with the 2010 challenge. I'm blowing off the holidays to a large extent and playing hermit, so it is a feasible proposition. But with new computers just introduced to the home office, I am being sidetracked by all of the work involved in getting them up and running. Then there's the home buying adventure getting underway, then the medical stuff that keeps popping up, and you know, the family, they keep calling, and visiting, and wanting to know when they'll see me, and of course the work, work, work. Boss is on vacation for three weeks, so it's just me holding down the fort and our next issue feels like a double edition. Of course, we're early in the quarter and I am always optimistic that we'll manage to bring it all together. So there's an outpouring of the many distractions of real life that keep interfering with my writing and keeping up with LT, which has been a very fun experience this last year. I've been avoiding all other social networking situations, beyond visiting friends' blogs semiregularly. Sigh. Books, people, food, music--not enough time...

Edited to fix egregious typo.

@237: Steph, I am so sorry for the typo above :(.

I am not going to attempt the remaining reviews in any sort of reading order. I've been held up by The Parable of the Talents, which I've needed time to digest. I thought it was great--my head was buzzing and I couldn't sleep the rest of the night. I am still trying to connect the story to the biblical passage that gives the book its name and which is quoted at the end of the book. That will doubtless be another long-winded review, and I just want to pound a few out right now.

I confess that I've been distracted with this discussion. My querido wants to know why I'm wasting my time dignifying such people with a response. I'm afraid I'm starting to agree with him. So instead I'm going to concentrate on reviews for awhile.

I just finished The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. It was another delightful tale with that particular flavor that Gaiman brings to his works. So many other people have gone into details, that I won't do so here. It was certainly worthy of the Newberry Award it received this year. It would make a delightful movie right up there with Coraline.

I must say that the composition and layout were just as original as the story itself--interspersing Dave McKean's illustrations and the opening chapter segments. The only thing close to this approach that I've seen lately is The Monsters of Templeton. The portrayal of Silas in one of the drawings reminds me of Dream himself in the Sandman characters, and the Convocation here is very reminiscent of the "cereal" convention in that series.

This story certainly does an admirable job of instilling various virtues and wisdoms. While it is set in an unnamed small town in England, and the majority of characters can safely be presumed to be white and English, there is a smattering of diversity, from Miss Lupescu who appears to be Eastern European or Russian, to extremely minor characters--Haroun the Afreet, Alonso Tomas Garcia Jones, the man with the turban and beard (Sikh?), many of the unnamed attendees of the Convocation, and there's one Japanese name mentioned among the gravestones, but I can't find it again. Neil Gaiman also excellently portrays the speech patterns of various eras and social classes in English history as our hero Nod interacts with the ghosts in his home, ranging from the single Roman buried there until the early modern era. And I think he captured foibles and troubles of every age of childhood as Nod progresses from baby to independent teenager. As I said, a charming story, definitely a keeper. My querido might not notice that it never goes home...but then, he's such a rabid Gaiman fan, probably has a microchip installed.

#239: I loved that one by Gaiman! I am glad to see you enjoyed it as well.

@240: I have enjoyed the little by Neil Gaiman that I've read so far. Neverwhere was the first and my favorite (perhaps because it was first?). My querido prefers American Gods, perhaps because of the prominence of Wisconsin in the story. I thought the ideas interesting but the story not as engaging as Neverwhere. I've seen MirrorMask and Coraline, and I read through most of The Sandman when I was an undergraduate. I also listened to his anecdote on The Moth. That's the limit of my experience so far. I greatly appreciate his imagination and storytelling.

My experience of Gaiman to this point has been limited as well. I read Good Omens, which he wrote with Terry Pratchett, The Graveyard Book, and Neverwhere. I have enjoyed them all, but my favorite so far is The Graveyard Book, although I really liked Neverwhere too.

Reefsong by Carol Severance is one of my all-time favorite stand-alone science fiction novels. I quoted from it in my second graduate school application essay. The underlying premise is a chilling extrapolation of some current sociopolitical trends. The other book that approaches this scenario (only loosely) that comes to mind is The Cold Cash War by Robert Asprin.

Reefsong is set at some indeterminate time in the future. The lead protagonist is Angela Dinsman, a cultural anthropologist who works as a troubleshooter for the United Nations. I admit, the thought of the UN with any sort of clout seems like a joke or wishful thinking (unless you subscribe to the extreme-right conspiracy theories that the UN is going to take over the United States any day now). Her job has largely involved resolving environmental disputes as the natural resources of the world dwindle and disappear. Who is the usual client that hires her services? World Life--the single transnational corporation that has gobbled up everything to become the sole business and landowner in charge of agricultural production in the world. And what does the world look like? Thanks to antiabortion and anticontraception policies of earlier generations (pushed by conservative corporations), the planet abounds with teeming billions of people existing on the edge of starvation, subsisting on mass-produced algae and the like from World Bank for survival.

This book is far enough in the future that humans have the ability to travel vast distances through wormholes to colonize other planets. One of those is a water world that is the principal producer of the algae that so much of humanity depends on. However, to survive on Lesaat, human colonists are outfitted with gills and accompanying webbed hands. Not surprisingly, most of the colonists come from island cultures on Earth: Polynesians, Micronesians, Hawai'ians, Japanese, etc.

In the opening chapter, Angela Dinsman is seriously injured while trying to rescue a fire lookout during a wildfire in the Rockies. She wakes up with gills and new hands to meet Pua, a waterworld child whose changes were manipulated in utero by her geneticist mother. Pua is now an orphan in custody of World Life, her parents suddenly dead, and their scientific breakthrough that could revolutionize food supplies and save billions is missing. Angela Dinsman is essentially coerced into going to Lesaat to investigate in her capacity as UN troubleshooter.

In many ways, this book is a celebration of island cultures, marine life, and traditional ecological knowledge. It is also a fairly riveting sociopolitical and psychological drama. It is also an effective portrait of the end game of corporate greed and its human costs. Great story, great scenery, great dialogue, generally good characters, both funny and serious. It is a very original work that stands out in a field of so many derivatives.

The only quibbles are two. First, the opening scene and the premise that forest management operates in automatic fire suppression mode. Decades of that policy in real life have shown its very real flaws and limitations. It's hard to swallow in some sort of distant future, even if the forests are classified as CO2 farms. Second, I love all of the science fiction that entails such knowledge and mastery of genetics and physiology that we can just pick whatever physical structures we want from the animal kingdom and incorporate them into the human genome and body. Gills? No problem. Octopus hands? Sure. I mean, I loved the short-lived Dark Angel television series, which had a very similar sort of biological premise, but still, it's not really that easy or likely. To date, the only real transgenic modifications we've engineered involve very simple biochemical pathways (bioluminescence, cold hardiness, herbicide tolerance, etc.), not fairly complex physical structures. All of these stories completely ignore such processes as pleiotropy and epistasis and complex interactions between the individual and the environment and among various scales from genes to cell to whole organism.

Oh, I must really check out Reefsong. Thanks for the recommendation, Chris!

@244: Thank you for stopping by, Stasia. Merry Christmas.

I hope you have a Merry Christmas as well, Chris!

Today, I'll tackle four books of a series by Kat Richardson: Greywalker, Poltergeist, Underground, and Vanished. These books were entertaining but not good enough to merit individual reviews. These are part of the dark, gritty, contemporary urban supernatural fantasy trend.

The stories are set in Seattle, so I enjoy them because it reminds me of the time I've spent in that metropolis between my summer on the Olympic Peninsula and the winter in Snoqualmie Pass. Personal nostalgia makes me more tolerant than I perhaps might otherwise be. It is always fun to follow the characters through terrain and past landmarks that one has personally experienced.

Harper Blaine is the stereotypical hard-boiled detective, and in the opening chapter of the first book Greywalker she is viciously assaulted by someone she's been investigating and is clinically dead for about seven minutes. When she recovers, nothing is the same. She sees things that aren't there, she's propelled into some sort of misty, dark otherwhere, she's seeing the things that go bump in the night. In effect, that misty borderland between the natural and the supernatural is called the Grey and she now has a permanent passport to travel there. There's no going back to regular life.

In Greywalker, we meet most of the secondary characters who people the series: Edward and Carlos and other vampires; the witch Mara Danziger, her husband Ben, their resident ghost Albert; the mysterious technical guru Quinton; police detective Solis; the initial romantic interest Will Novak, an antiques dealer.

All of these stories are essentially fast-paced action movies on paper. While all of the characters are distinctive, all are without depth, including the protagonist herself. This isn't really a series about personal growth, simply the growth of supernatural superpowers. Which is a shame, because so many of these characters have potential. And the romantic subplots--are there to add the mandatory sprinkling of spice, not depth.

Greywalker involves Harper pursuing two cases: a missing college student (hired by the mother) and a missing musical instrument (hired by a mysterious foreigner). She is also trying to come to grips with her new reality, well, she's trying to deny her new reality. Along the way, she meets Will, sparks fly, they end up in bed. He has a younger brother too, but he completely disappears from the series until book four (Vanished), despite their apparently close relationship. She gets involved in a vampire power struggle and has to vanquish a necromantic object ready to explode. At the end, Will can't live with someone keeping secrets, so exit stage left.

Poltergeist deals with just that, but it is apparently created as part of a university experiment. This is where we meet apparently Harper's only friend from before her accident and new life: Phoebe Mason, a bookstore owner whose family immigrated from Jamaica. I think the main reason for creating a black friend was to bring in the Caribbean version of the poltergeist--the duppy. It's nice that Kat Richardson isn't relying solely on European legends for her material. The final showdown takes place in Chinatown, so more local history and cultural diversity to the story. The romance is limping along through long-distance phone calls with Europe, since Will took a job with Sotheby's in London.

*SPOILERS* Underground involves zombies. At the beginning of the book, Will is back in Seattle trying to make a go of it with Harper, but when she deconstructs the undead he freaks. End romance, exit stage right. Harper cries. Enter Quinton for instant rebound, better than ever. And now we learn that Quinton is homeless by choice, and that whatever is creating the zombies is preying on the homeless living in the historic underground part of Seattle. Why would someone so smart and capable as Quinton be homeless under the government radar? Because the government is looking for him, silly. Enter the NSA. Of course, Quinton is just like Mel Gibson in conspiracy theory, but not schizophrenic. So the sex is great, he totally understands her freaky situation, BUT THEY CAN NEVER BE TOGETHER because the government will never stop looking, even if he fakes his own death. Oh yeah, cause of zombies--local Native American legend. Once again, it's nice that she's not relying strictly on European models and that she recognizes that there was a long human history in the area before European settlement and the establishment of a city.

Vanished takes place in England. Harper learns about her past, meets another greywalker, rescues ex-boyfriend who has been taken hostage by hostile vampires (bet he believes in the crazy stories now), and realizes that she is the linchpin to an EVIL PLOT that goes back a long time. This time it's ancient Egypt that contributes to the supernatural plot elements.

So what do I like about the stories? She does her homework and does a good job with the scenery and exposition to give readers a feel for the locales. She has a fair sprinkling of different cultures and racial groups--detective Solis is a Colombian by birth, then there's the Jamaican Mason family, the various Native Americans who show up in Underground. Harper owns a ferret. She does a great job portraying ferrets as pets, and it is certainly a nice change from all of the cat owners in mysteries.

What don't I like? The characters are shuffled in and out of stories with no real pacing or development, just sudden left turns and departures. Each story is entirely crisis management, there's no sense that Harper has anything approaching a normal routine, even if the normal has been redefined. Never any visits with friends or plans for a restful weekend or calls from annoying relatives. So the characters are essentially cardboard cutouts that are moved around the board as needed without any sort of convincing motivation or sense of inevitability.

And most commonly, Harper's reactions to the Grey and to vampires and to whatever else is nausea. But boy, she keeps trooping right along with the nausea and other physical discomforts. As someone who's gone through chemotherapy, it's kind of disturbing to have nausea tossed in there as the most common physical symptom Harper contends with, and yet she just shrugs it off. Shit, there's whole suites of pharmaceuticals and endless brochures and books of advice for how to cope with nausea, which can be quite debilitating, and continue to get vital nutrients and survive. I don't think the author has any grasp of it, really, and every time I read about the nausea in the story it makes my guts twinge.

Similarly, her interactions with the vampires. She has profound physical reactions to them, admits they scare the pants off her, but then she just blithely handles them. Once again, doesn't convince me. And as a friend pointed out, they have such prosaic names: Edward, Carlos, Alice, Gwen, and so on.

So if you want quick entertainment that will occupy you for a few hours, with characters you aren't really going to become attached to, this is the series. It's kinda like the John Grisham of urban fantasy. Kat Richardson is certainly better than some others I've read in this style. I'm not going to go out and buy any of these books though, and I'm returning the ones I borrowed.

#247: Sounds like I can skip all of those books and not miss anything. I hope your next reads are not quite so nauseating (sorry, I could not resist!)

@248: the covers certainly made the books sound intriguing, and the first book was good enough. But by book 3, I was definitely aware of all of the potential falling by the wayside and the whole superagent boyfriend thing was just so inane. Sigh. But still way better than the one Katie McAllister book I read (Holy Smokes), and about on par with the Rachel Caine book (Ill Wind), which lingers on my bookshelves because of the wildfire cameo and the detailed physical descriptions of meteorological phenomena, not because of the story or characters.

I understand the irresistible power of puns. Fear not.

I picked up Tea with the Black Dragon at a library book sale recently. At 166 pages, I thought it would make a fine appetizer, and so it did. This is a charming, simple fantasy story. I don't believe I've ever read anything else by R. A. Macavoy.

Martha MacNamara comes to San Francisco at her daughter's behest. On her first night, the bartender introduces her to the mysterious Wayland Long, a long-term resident of the hotel. They get along smashingly, and he offers to help her find her apparently missing daughter, whose troubles act as the deus ex machina that brings these two souls together.

They don't write stories like this any more--straightforward and fairly simple with a minimum of characters (7 total) and subplots (maybe 1). Martha and Wayland are deftly portrayed through dialogue and shifting POVs, which during their extended conversations may smoothly switch between them with every paragraph. These two are richly realized, with many of the insights implied through dialogue rather than bludgeoning the reader through internal exposition. The other characters, not so much--one- or two-dimensional supporting cast sufficient to move the plot forward. There's plenty of action, but the plot is simply a crisis that allows our two protagonists to shine. It's a sweet tale chock full of Chinese philosophy, and of course a happy ending. The most amusing aspect of it was completely unintentional--the book was published in 1983, and the computer technology described is so obsolete today as to be funny, much worse than the computer technology described in Bimboes of the Death Sun by Sharyn McCrumb.

This is her best, IMHO, Chris. There's a sequel that simply isn't as charming, no matter how much we want it to be, with the same characters, Twisting the Rope. Her Lens of the World trilogy is not bad, but her Damiano trilogy is unrelenting pain, misery, and disease. I expunged it from my library.

@251: Thank you for your notes on her body of work. It's funny how uneven my reading in the field has been. I recognized the name from years of seeing the books on the shelves of libraries and bookstores, but I was never impelled to actually take any of them home. And so it goes with many authors whose names I recognize but never got around to trying. And of course, knowing nothing about the author, I pictured R. A. Macavoy as male, without thinking about the fact that many authors in this genre using initials (especially in the 1980s and onwards) are women. Or that this story is essentially a romance, and therefore, a female author is so much more likely. I can't think of many male authors who have a romance storyline, as opposed to sex (though plenty of female authors write about sex rather than romance). Well, *any* at the moment, but there's got to be some out there, right?

#250: That one sounds like one I would enjoy, so I will see if I can track down a copy. Thanks for the recommendation, Chris.

@253: Stasia, you always provide such positive responses on so many threads. If you really do pursue every book with a positive review, I can see how you've amassed a planet of TBR. Good luck!

I suspect you may have difficulties acquiring a personal copy of this story. The Damiano books that ronincats mentioned are the ones that I have seen most on the shelves over the years.

I will now proceed to the Westria series by Diana L. Paxson. I do not have the entire series, so I will go with what I have. I was predisposed to like these stories because I am a longtime member of the SCA, and I knew that Diana L. Paxson was one of the founders of the organization (as Diana Listmaker).

The only book that is a new read for me at this time is The Mistress of the Jewels, an omnibus reprint of the first two stories: Lady of Light and Lady of Darkness. The first book I encountered, many years ago, was Silverhair the Wanderer. At the time, I suspect I was still mad for travelling and traditional stringed instruments like dulcimers and harps, so it was a natural fit. Later, I stumbled across The Earthstone and then The Sea Star. I have only the dimmest recollections of these two stories, so in some ways it was starting over. And then well after those, I found The Mistress of the Jewels, put it on my shelf, and promptly forgot about it. But now I'm on a rampage to actually read everything in my library, so here we go.

This fantasy series is basically a post-apocalyptic neo-pagan utopia set largely in California. I am not particularly familiar with pagan traditions such as Wicca, so it's hard for me to pick out what aspects she invented and which ones she lifted straight from the source material. The underlying premise is that after too much abuse by human society, the forces of Nature rose up in rebellion during the Cataclysm, wiping out most of humanity and the traces of its technological society about 800 years before the events in the novels. Only those people who had some connection to Nature survived into the new age. And in the kingdom of Westria, they formed a Covenant with the Elements and the Kindreds of all the different living things to live in harmony without seeking to conquer or control. And yet, the royalty of Westria have the four jewels that allow them to control the elements: earth, air, fire, and water. Go figure. The royals also basically become avatars.

Anyway, this is another fantasy series where the divine is real, palpable, omnipresent to those who have the psychic sensitivity to connect to the spiritual (read: astral) plane of existence. Similarly, people with that kind of empathic ability can connect with other people and even other organisms. Must be nice to not be hampered by the limitations of the spoken word or to never experience some sort of existential crisis of faith. I think this concept of divine, anthropomorphic forces that are tangible is one of the all-time favorite tropes of the fantasy genre.

Before I continue, allow me to digress: I am realizing that my negative reviews contain a lot more spoilers than the favorable ones. I think it's the irresistible urge to hold my nose while pointing and saying "this stinks." So be warned: lots of SPOILERS ahead for the first book.

I hated The Mistress of the Jewels. It was a slog to get through the first part of it, and the second part certainly held few surprises in terms of plot. It's basically a love triangle involving the most extreme stereotypes. There's Faris, the young, incredibly beautiful, fragile, weak, helpless, intuitive girl who becomes Queen of Westria, linked to the land itself. Then there's Jehan the king, the epitome of the hero: handsome, athletic, courageous, decisive, honest--the perfect leader who inspires loyalty and love in his followers. He's basically the stereotype of male strength and perfection. It's love at first sight for both of them, though of course it takes a while for them to admit it and move on to the inevitable marriage etc.--enter the first dragging of the plot.

And who's the third in this triumvirate of love, betrayal, and stereotypes? That would be Caolin, the seneschal who's been the chief administrator for the last 15 years while the playboy king was off womanizing and warring and otherwise having playboy adventures. Caolin as chief villain of the series represents a great many negative stereotypes--let's go through them one by one.

First, who becomes the chief bean-counter in an organization? Obviously the biggest nerd ever. And Caolin is the stereotypical geek with a chip on his shoulder and a burning desire for vengeance on the dumb jocks who humiliated him in his youth.

Second, he's psychically null--can't connect to anyone emotionally (some would call that a sociopath). He studied at the College of the Wise where those with psychic abilities are trained to become the religious leaders of the kingdom. But he failed and he's full of angst.

Third, he's learned to compensate with pure intellect and cold rationality (he plays chess against himself entirely in his head--ooh!). So he develops a total god complex--I'm smarter than everyone else, and I know what's best for the kingdom and the king. And oh yeah, the ends totally justify the means because he knows what he's doing is totally right.

Fourth, in fact the only person he has ever connected to emotionally is the king, and that only under extenuating circumstances. Way back in the past, the teenage king was grievously hurt to discover that the first love of his life was simply using him. In a desperate attempt to console him, Caolin and Jehan had sex. That's right--the only indication of any homosexual activity in the book, and it goes to fuel the villain's obsession. The bad gay/bisexual man in a romantic storyline is a very hackneyed trope and wrong in so many ways. And yes, Caolin is totally obsessed with the only person who ever sought him out to become his friend. So when the king falls in love with Faris, Caolin keeps asking himself, "But what's wrong with me?" He's all about the jilted lover, even though that episode was a long time ago.

So there you go--Faris, Jehan, and Caolin. Caolin's descent into evil and betrayal is inevitable, and I just wished she'd get it over with already, not drag it out for another couple hundred pages. There are a few points where Caolin pauses and maybe would reconsider, but of course, someone interrupts as he's on the verge of confessing, and the moment is lost. Rinse, repeat. And of course, everyone, EVERYONE, is clueless that something is wrong until halfway through the SECOND half (Lady of Darkness).

I got really tired of reading Caolin's so very privileged perspective and the endless whining of Faris about how no one can love her because of the burn scar she keeps hidden, or how hard all of this is, or how she's misunderstood or all alone, or she doesn't want to lose herself as she's swept up by powerful forces (avatar of the gods, remember). The Mistress of the Jewels basically seesaws between their two stories, with Jehan as a fulcrum, and the occasional secondary character as antidotes.

Arrggh! And then there's the little subplots that largely go nowhere, which makes me wonder why bother. Why, why, why bring up these potential issues and difficulties and then just leave them hanging unresolved and apparently irrelevant? There's the Mistress of the College and her darkly, ominous warnings. And Rosemary with her sundry animals. And Caolin and his wolf companion. And the growing conflicts between humans and the other kindreds--a secular administrator who can't perceive the spiritual ramifications of government-sanctioned human activities is obviously going to get into turf battles with the religious authorities, bringing a new angle on the classic tension between church and state.

**TOTAL SPOILER PARAGRAPH** What happens? In the second half, Jehan dies. Everyone is grief-stricken. Caolin decides to consolidate his position as supreme ruler behind a puppet. Faris decides she needs some sort of strong man. So they each awkwardly and stupidly decide that sex with the other is what's needed, even though neither one particularly feels any desire much less love. That moment of physical contact gone horribly awry reveals each one's worst secrets. So the Queen flees with her infant son, and Caolin puts on the Jewels of Power. They fight in the astral plane. Caolin is defeated and terribly injured, but the Queen doesn't have the heart to destroy him: after all, Jehan loved him. But she was weakened by her starvation and pneumonia provoked by running off into the wilderness with no survival skills, and she doesn't survive the battle. Instead, she ascends to the divine pantheon. And the Jewels? Scattered and lost. The infant Prince? Left incognito to be raised by the peasants who found the nameless mother and child so that he won't be used as a pawn by anyone else ruthlessly seeking power. End of story. Weak. That's not even getting into how long it takes everyone to figure out that something is wrong, that Caolin is a manipulative bastard, that they need to gather evidence, and so on. And of course, all of the plot elements that show how Caolin is a Bad Man. Yawn. Using sorcery to kill the prime witness against him was a completely gratuitous scene.

So I hated the main characters. I hated all of the elements that went nowhere--neither providing character depth nor moving the plot forward. I hated how slowly the story progressed--why wade through 200+ pages of fluff to get to the obvious? I disliked the weak ending of book two, and the weaker ending of book one--the king and queen use the Jewels to stop an unsanctioned wildfire and everyone is swept away by awe. And Paxson way overused the word ecstasy.

Other major issues--here's this post-apocalyptic world where only people with a connection to nature survived--where the hell are the Native Americans? You'd think they would be front and central unless you buy into the fallacy that the California Indians went extinct (no shit, I've seen that argument). Nope, the only mention is that Faris has a grandparent who was apparently a Hurok up in the hills somewhere, and when she's pregnant, one of her indigenous relatives delivers a cradle for the soon-to-be prince because this is the first time in 800 years that someone with Native American blood is going to be on the throne. So the Native Americans are just as marginalized in fantasy as in real life, consigned to the geographic hinterlands and a hardscrabble, invisible existence.

And of course, the kingdom of Westria is essentially all white folks. I guess just white folks survived the Cataclysm (except for the token offscreen presence of those Hurok), yet more fictional proof that we're the chosen people. Sigh. The rest of the series tries to compensate for this bad beginning with a whole boatload of racial and ethnic and linguistic and cultural diversity.

The other major issue? Apparently, of all the postapocalyptic kingdoms that form, only Westria has the ultimate power in the form of the Jewels and is the only kingdom that has an explicit do-no-harm live-in-harmony contract with the powers of nature. How come they're so special? Sigh, again.

What did I like? Well, most of the secondary characters, such as they were--they get more playtime in subsequent novels. The descriptions of the neopagan religion were interesting, and I liked the way that the author switched between pivotal simultaneous scenes to build the symmetry and tension: Faris in big, public rituals mirrored by Caolin's creation of a private, sorcerous ritual; Faris giving birth and the Battle of the Waste. And there's a wildfire at the end of the first part--I always like portrayals of fire.

ETA more gripes (and the duplicate was deleted below).

Since that post was already long, I decided to break it up. Well, after the profoundly disappointing first book of the series and realizing that Caolin is the villain through the rest of the series, I approached rereading Silverhair the Wanderer with trepidation.

Luckily, I still liked it well enough. Caolin makes only a few minor appearance because the story isn't really about him (thank God). And when he does appear, it's at extended intervals and we get to see him develop in some ways, but it's never really his POV. So much more tolerable. This is the story of Farin, the twin brother of Faris, the twit of a queen in the first book. He comes off poorly in his earlier appearance as a boy who won't grow up and have real relationships with women because his first love is music (specifically, his harp Swangold, a gift of the king), but he will get laid when he can. It's kind of a cross between that girls have cooties attitude and the more sinister women aren't really people, except for Faris, his twin, who shares a telepathic bond with him as twins so often do (yawn).

In this book, grief-stricken at the loss of Jehan and the mysterious disappearance of his sister and nephew, Farin decides to pursue Caolin in search of answers. But then it turns into roaming the earth as a wandering minstrel in quest of the vanished. Next thing you know, ten or more years have passed. In many ways, Farin, now known as Silverhair, is still a little boy running away from his problems, his grief, and the people who know and love him (and would put obligations and responsibilities on his free spirit when he just want to soar, pout). Tiresome. But made up for by the travelogue and the many songs. Paxson expands beyond California into Mexico and the Southwest with allusions to Utah and the Great Plains. Funny how all of the people of color exist south of the border. And Silverhair gets to have the stereotypical Native American mystical vision quest while living among them at one point. Anyway, this book spends more time exploring many different cultures and ethnicities and geographies, as well as some aspects of music and musical training. I liked it for those reasons.

The Earthstone begins the quest of Julian, the missing royal heir, who opens the story trekking to the Master of the Junipers to find out who his biological parents are. Funny how he falls in with Silverhair at that pivotal moment, so uncle and nephew are reunited at the moment of self-discovery. But wait, Caolin is amassing a band of outlaws, or perhaps a real army, and is building a fortress on top of Red Mountain at the center of the kingdom where once he built his sorcerous temple and wore the Jewels and was defeated. And after 20 years without a king bonded to the land, the kingdom is slowly unravelling. So Prince Julian is needed, but how to have his claim recognized? Well, clearly he must find the Jewels of Power. And so we have the next four books of the series, one for each element and jewel.

In The Earthstone, we are introduced to the next generation of heroes on the requisite quest: Frederic, the son of the Regent who just wants to pursue a religious career; Rana, the red-haired girl who invites herself along on the adventure (can you say romantic interest?); and Eva, the older woman who joins the party later with her traumatically mute grandson Piper, the sole survivors of a bandit raid on their village. These, along with Julian and Farin Silverhair and Lady Madrone, a tree spirit with a human form assigned by the Lord of the Trees to help them, pursue the Earthstone. Of course, there's a face-off with big, bad Caolin, now the Blood Lord. He loses. Julian dies and is resurrected--can you see the religious themes here? Not very subtle. The plot is entirely predictable.

Once again, characters generally weak and undeveloped. Julian struggles between his need to lead and protect others and his fear of the demands of rulership and his anger at the Master of the Junipers secrecy all these years (and at his dead parents for abandoning him, of course). Farin struggles to figure out how he feels about his long-lost nephew while crying over his damaged harp. Frederic struggles between his secular responsibilities as the heir of a major political figure and his spiritual yearnings. Rana struggles to be accepted as an equal and welcome and contributing member of the expedition. Eva and Piper are essentially just plot devices for the other characters. Other characters are even more minimalist and peripheral.

Once again, apparent tension and difficulties essentially evaporate and go nowhere--most notably, the dwarf king holding onto the Earthstone deep in the heart of Red Mountain. Once again, good triumphs over evil, thanks to its intrinsic goodness and the inherent limitations of the evil perspective. Julian gets to commune with his dead parents because they're part of the pantheon now--the personification of good and the land and whatever.

The Sea Star continues where The Earthstone left off, though there's a small time gap. Rana, Frederic, and Julian all share equal time in the story and have equally important converging subplots. This book introduces Ardra, Frederic's love interest, as one of the bad guys--in this case, the leader of the sea bandits raiding all along the coast.

What did I like? Diana L. Paxson clearly has a great love for California. It comes through in the vivid descriptions of the varied landscapes, the local foods, and the seasonal calendar of rituals. I liked the descriptions of the metaphysical landscape as well--interactions with the anthropomorphic Kindreds--the spirit essence of each type of organism. I liked how she portrayed each element so vividly. I liked all of the story that didn't involve plot or characters. And the characters weren't bad, just not particularly noteworthy.

I also liked the retrospective analysis of past events by the older characters of the previous generation reflecting on the people and events in Mistress of the Jewels. That is probably the most nuanced aspect of the series--each person recognizing how he or she, as well as the idolized king and queen, contributed to the disaster and how the circumstances helped shaped Caolin rather than dismissing him as a bad apple with no one to blame but himself. This is clearly an important theme of the series. It isn't about good vanquishing and destroying evil, it's about the limitations of evil and the need for forgiveness and healing. Which is why Caolin keeps turning up and why he's not quite as irritating in later books.

I found the themes and imagery interesting enough to make the effort to mooch the next in the series (The Wind Crystal). I was motivated in part by a desire to see the resolution to some of the issues raised in The Sea Star, such as Rana's fear and loathing of men engendered by her rape really confounding the romance with Prince Julian who finally realizes he loves her. Both Paxson's and Julian's handling of the situation have been fairly sensitive and reasonable. I haven't decided about The Jewel of Fire yet. Definitely not going to bother with The Golden Hills of Westria, which follows the THIRD generation.

#254: Unfortunately, I do pursue all the books with good reviews. Getting my hands on them is another matter entirely. This next year I am going to use ILL more to try and take off some of the books that have been in the BlackHole seemingly forever.

I was able to order a copy of Tea with the Black Dragon through PBS, so I am looking forward to reading that one in 2010.

@258: You are far more ambitious than me, I'm afraid. I recognize my profound limitations and know I can't pursue every interesting lead. It was very frustrating when I was still in grad school to meet all of these interesting people and know that I just wasn't going to get to know most of them, much less develop lifelong friendships. Similarly with the coursework--interesting content and not enough time to really sink my teeth into it, just enough to just barely take care of the minimum to get through class. It's why I'll never go to school full-time again. I have no idea how people with children and jobs to boot manage it. And so it is now--books, groups, hobbies, people, places, recipes--too, too much and life is so short.

#259: I have no idea how people with children and jobs to boot manage it.

I think it is the same as with everything else in life - you adapt, adjust, and prioritize. In my case, the reason that almost all of my reading is done in the middle of the night is because my family comes first and during the day, I spend the time with my daughters. In the evening, with my husband.

@260: Ah, but I don't function without lots of sleep. I need at least 7 hours each night and I'm much better with 8.5-9 hours. And right now, my daytime function tracks very closely with the previous night's rest because I have absolutely no reserves and no resilience. So my sleeptime is being very closely protected for the foreseeable future. I've had to drop quite a few friends and activities in effect, which I do regret, but so it goes. I am glad that you are able to spend the daily time with loved ones and still find time to read.

I understand about the need for sleep, believe it or not. I know that I am lucky in being able to get by on so few hours of sleep - 5 hours a night is good for me! My sister, on the other hand, has to sleep between 10-12 hours a night due to severe thyroid issues. I do not get that kind of sleep unless I am drugged.

Chris, thanks for the mention of Tea with the Black Dragon. It was on my wishlist years ago and for some reason fell off of it. Time to add it back again.

@262: I have a friend with Crohn's, and she really resents the additional sleeptime as a result. I can't say my sleep requirements have changed much in the last decade-plus, but I can't get away with shorting myself anymore on snoozing.

@263: Kelly, as I mentioned above, I recommend trying the library as your best bet. It was a quick read. Good luck.

The next books I'll review are Dragon Bones and Dragon Blood by Patricia Briggs. I greatly enjoy the Mercedes Thompson series by the same author--I consider them the best of this new urban supernatural fantasy trend (that I've encountered so far). The Alpha and Omega spin-offs are okay. So I was prepared to enjoy Dragon Bones and its sequel.

These are apparently the first books that Patricia Briggs got published. And after reading them, I now understand the name of her official website (hurog.com). My querido says that it's obvious they're her first, being much rougher in style. I don't know about that, but I wasn't too impressed. I wasn't completely disappointed either, so I guess my final verdict is "meh."

Dragon Bones and Dragon Blood are the story of Ward, a big, strong, smart, sensitive, caring, courageous, loyal young man who everyone thinks is a big, dumb oaf. So when in the first chapter of the first book, he becomes the ruler of the small, mountainous, poor kingdom of Hurog, he doesn't get to stay in charge for very long. He flees with a band of sidekicks and they go adventuring in the kingdom of Oranstone, which is suffering attacks from the kingdom of Vorsag while the High King of the five kingdoms does nothing. It turns out he faked stupidity to avoid more life-threatening beatings from his father. So he goes on a quest to earn such a reputation that he can reclaim his territory. Much adventure ensues. Dragon Blood is very similar, but this time instead of just his own life and rulership being in jeopardy, his entire people is threatened by the ambitions of the High King, who has uncovered a cataclysmic magical weapon that helped destroy earlier civilization.

So in many ways these follow the standard fantasy tropes. The good guys travel around on a quest to stop the bad guys. Magic is being abused and is at the heart of what's wrong in the country. The good guys overcome through their perseverance, fine personal qualities, teamwork, and just the right circumstances. However, these books also subvert some of the tropes. Our hero is disregarded as an incompetent stupid person. It turns out the only bad guy is the High King. Everyone else, even when acting against Ward and his friends, is really a good guy with the same sorts of values--mainly taking care of family. So this is really a story about families sticking together and people taking care of each other.

Patricia Briggs did a good job of creating entirely distinct cultures and geographies for the five kingdoms so that each has its own personality. Downside? They're all white people. The characters are all well done too. Generally distinct and with a certain depth, even relatively minor characters. This is another fantasy where the divine influences can be directly experienced by the characters, and in fact, those meddlesome religious forces help Ward and his party at critical junctures. I think Briggs does a good job exploring the powers and limitations of such forces. She also clearly knows her horses, as this comes through in the descriptions and dialogue. She does a great job portraying the grind that is life on the road in all weather over an extended period of time. Not everyone is straight, so that's something of a plus. Though it appears to be only the one bad guy (the High King) who indulges in bisexual activity, having Garranon as a long-time male lover whom he molested first as a child war-captive. So once again homosexual activity = bad = pedophile (at least in the beginning). Garranon, however, isn't a bad guy, just doing whatever it takes to ensure the survival of his family and people in the decades after their failed uprising.

My major problem is with the underlying premise. It turns out that a deep, dark magical family secret has been effectively poisoning the kingdom of Hurog over time, as well as weakening the magical fiber of the world. So the few arable fields are decreasing and the ruling family has more and more problems over time. Ward's father was apparently insane, a berserker in battle whom no one dared cross, but also driven to possess Hurog to the point of murdering his father and attempting to murder his son. So Ward is beaten in childhood and suffers a stroke (and is presumed brain-damaged after that point). Ward's sister is mute. Ward's brother is driven to attempt suicide. So if the family curse is that bad and becoming intergenerationally worse, where the hell does Ward come from? He's got all of these positive traits and enough smarts to survive under extreme domsestic conditions (and protect his siblings as well). So why did the curse skip him, huh? And it seems like it's pretty darn easy for a single person with a single act to derail magic in the whole world--how does that make sense? I guess magic is pretty darn vulnerable to corruption and destruction.

And I have an overall comment about Patricia Briggs. I've generally enjoyed her books. At first, I was impressed by her willingness to tackle a difficult subject like rape and its after-effects. But now having read eight of her books, I get that survivors of abuse are clearly her thing. Some form of traumatic abuse is in EVERY SINGLE BOOK. I think she handles it well every time, and I'm not necessarily adverse to serious themes in recreational fiction. But she's starting to feel like a one-trick pony, that this is HER ISSUE, and no matter what plot and characters you start with, they're going to visit rape/torture/beating/other physical/mental/emotional abuse before the end. All of her female protagonists and some of her female secondaries end up raped. I must say I don't like that. I don't like it if a male author only knows how to incorporate women into the story for sex, and I'm finding I don't like a female author who only knows how to incorporate (strong) women as survivors (not victims).

@238: LOL, what typo? And you have yourself a deal. I just want to do anything to secure my pure self-interest in reading all your wonderful reviews and comments. At least you're trying to finish your reviews, I'm pretty sure I'm screwed unless I stay home on New Years Eve (highly unlikely)!

Happy New Year, Chris. I've very much enjoyed your thought-provoking reviews this year, and hope to continue to follow your thread for 2010.

Ops, for some reason I though I was in the 2010 challenge;) Happy new year!

@266: Steph, I may well join the 2010 group, even though technically I did not meet my deadline. However, I tend to mentally extend my work week through Sunday, regardless of the calendar date. So I have a couple days' grace to cram the rest. After I edit that paper for work today, but maybe before I start poring over the galley proofs.

@267: Thank you for the good wishes, roni, and back at you. See my comment above. I'm a sucker for distractions. Maybe I'll try for brevity in my reviews next year. Ha!

@269: Apolline, it is a pleasure to see you, even if it was a wrong turn. Welcome to the 75 Challenge.

Happy New Year, Chris! I do hope you will join us in the 2010 challenge. I have enjoyed your thread in 2009.

@272: Thank you for reiterating your invitation, Stasia. It has been interesting reading the 2010 introductions thread. But I better get to work...

I'm going to run through some old favorites quickly:

The Phantom Lover by Elizabeth Mansfield is what I consider to be one of the best written, very human stories set during the Regency era. I have others that I enjoy, but many if not most of them, have some degree of contrivance, artificiality, or other awkwardness by the author in order to please modern sensibilities and expectations with a piece of historical fiction. In other words, the characters and plots must do certain contortions and gymnastics to fit. The Phantom Lover has none of that, well, okay, maybe a little, but so well done.

This is the romance between Nell and the mysterious stranger who pretends to be a ghost to drive her away from the isolated family estate in Cornwall, where she is exiled by her cash-strapped step-parents after jilting her fiance and whistling away a fortune in marriage settlements. Okay, it all sounds very cheesy, but the emotions are very real, the characters so very engaging and warm, and the humor also quite well done. It is an opportunity to learn more about Cornwall, both in terms of scenery and dialect, and to confront the challenges of returning to civilian life with a physical handicap (the era of the Napoleonic Wars, after all). It is a charming love story with depth not just fluff. And some quite witty dialogue.

I do not think I have ever read anything by Elizabeth Mansfield. I will look and see if I can find that one. Thanks for the recommendation!

BTW - I received a copy of Reefsong yesterday. I am hoping that I get to it in 2010.

Next is A Nun in the Closet, another Dorothy Gilman sendup. As far as I know, this has no sequels. It is in the usual Gilman style--apparent naifs as protagonists, with great personal character and good-heartedness, overcoming action-movie plot devices. In this case, a tiny abbey of 17 cloistered nuns inherits a rural property from the mysterious Mr. Moretti, so they send the most forthright and competent, Sister John, to investigate, along with Sister Hyacinthe, the most aloof and primitive. While inventorying the house, they pick up an assortment of interesting characters and run into various unexpected troubles, starting with the gunshot victim hidden in an upstairs closet.

While I enjoy the simplistic charm of these ultimately happy Gilman stories, I cannot overlook the flaws. Lots of stereotypes and generally flat characters. In this case, Sister Hyacinthe appears to be Native American--she's woodswise, knows how to survive on forage foods, communes with nature, particularly plants, and is generally suspicious and backwards in her attitudes. All of the classic Indian portrayals, except, of course, she's Christian. Then there's the bad guys who turn out to be classic Italian mobsters--picture all of the stereotypes of this group, and there you go. And of course, there's the requisite Eastern guru: Bhanjan Singh.

This book was published in 1975 and appears to be set around 1969-1970. Thus many of the quirky characters who appear in the story are hippies. This book is a gentle look at some of the counterculture movement of the era. It also exposes the plight of migrant farm workers (sadly, I suspect conditions haven't really changed much in 40 years--but hey, they're doing better than the victims of the thriving sex slave industry here). In this book, they appear to be U.S. citizens, largely white with a handful of African Americans. While I don't doubt that whites have historically comprised part of this low-end workforce, the impression I get is that it has almost always been comprised largely of blacks and latinos and recent immigrants of whatever background. So it's a little disappointing that in this story the poor and downtrodden that the hippies and nuns want to help are mostly white, along with all of the other secondary characters except for Al Carson, the utility repairman who has the best line (when talking about the local sheriff): "You're probably too Catholic for him...I know I'm too black for him. If someone's too poor he gets mean and if they're too rich he gets nasty. He also likes men to have short hair and women to stay in their place. And he hates change."

Finally for today, Sorcery and Cecilia by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer. This little gem was an embarrassingly late find for me, since I originally started collecting Wrede books in the 1980s. Despite the recent MammothFail controversy, I still generally appreciate her works. I have no previous experience with Stevermer's works. This is another historical novel set during the Regency era, so it references many of the same people, events, and locations as The Phantom Lover, but this is a fantasy, so it also involves the Royal College of Wizards and various spells and enchantments along with romances. It is an epistolary novel, with Wrede writing as Cecilia, stranded in the country for the Season, and Severmer writing as Kate, joining her sister Georgina for the London season.

I happen to enjoy epistolary stories, so this was fun. The plot was a bit of a romp, full of adventure and humor, and of course, the bad guys and controlling relatives are both foiled in the end as part of the happy double-wedding ending. I loved all of the characters, the dialogue was great, the pacing was good, in all an enjoyable read. My only regret is my difficulty in acquiring the sequels. Someday...

Thank you Justchris. I have to admit I thought it was a bit odd since I had not seen your thread at all and then suddenly it appeared with over 200 comments:) Well, now you know I joined the 2010 challenge, thank you for the tip! Will you join this years challenge too?

Okay, I just mooched The Phantom Lover based on your recommendation. I have a hard time finding Regency writers who measure up to Georgette Heyer, but find your description irresistable.

Glad you enjoyed Sorcery and Cecilia. While I think Wrede's Lyra books are more complete stories, this one is a delightful little fantasy, and I enjoyed the sequels as well.

See you on the other side, hopefully!

@277: I'm caving fast...just want to get these last few reviews off my chest to start the year out fresh.

@278: I used to have some other stories by Mansfield, such as My Lord Murderer, but none of them were keepers for more than a few years. Many, many moves back and forth across the country encouraged me to slough off books at regular intervals, particularly romances, which I never invested heavily in. Over the decades I've liquidated probably more than 80% of my former holdings. But now I've stayed in one spot for a decade and the process of accumulation has set in, especially in the last year.

I confess I am very torn at this point. Books off the shelf sounds like the perfect challenge for me, since I really do want to concentrate on my own holdings (barring various research projects), but I don't want to cross-list every book review between that and 75...

Just finished The Phantom Lover. I agree that it does a better job than most regencies in approaching Heyer's standard. I find the secondary characters a bit two-dimensional, but Nell and Harry are well-developed. The original premise is fantastical, but once that is accepted, the story develops very well. Thanks for the recommendation. Are you going to join the 2010 group? I see you haven't yet.

@280: Glad you enjoyed the story, Roni. You're right that all of the other characters in The Phantom Lover were comic foils for the romantic couple. But I greatly enjoyed the comedy and the romance both.

I'm going to try to pound out the remaining *easy* reviews. I got started last year and was interrupted.

First, Merlin's Mirror by Andre Norton. This is her science fiction spin on the Arthurian legend. Published in 1975, it's a quick read at 205 pages. I have never gotten into this particular myth. I have so far not read The Mists of Avalon or The Crystal Cave or other modern renditions of the saga, though people keep telling me I should do so. I did read the comic Camelot 3000, back in the 1980s. And someone gave me Deepak Chopra's The Sword of Merlin.

Norton's story is told entirely from Merlin's perspective, barring the initial scene that describes his conception. In effect, Merlin and Nimue are not completely human, instead having extraterrestrial blood and representing two conflicting interstellar cultures that long ago battled for men's souls on earth (another postapocalyptic story!). Merlin's apocryphal cave is in fact a secret computer installation.

It is an interesting idea, and in the end she portrays Nimue not so much as evil as just with a fundamentally different philosophy. But first she's evil. In fact, women in the story generally seem to be bad and bent on destroying men or otherwise causing their downfalls. Well, Merlin's mother wasn't evil, just shallow--as were all of the characters, really. No Lancelot in this story.

So if you like Arthurian legends, definitely give this one a try. And if you're an Andre Norton fan, this is definitely from her earlier period, which I generally like. But if I didn't already have an extensive Norton collection, I probably wouldn't keep this one.

Next is Truly Yours by Barbara Metzger. I am unfamiliar with this author. My mom left this book behind on her last visit with the caveat that I probably wouldn't like it. She only says that because I sneer at most of her reading selections these days. Our tastes have diverged over the years.

I found the story amusing. It's not a keeper but it wasn't a total waste of time either, just historical fluff once again written from a very modern sensibility. In this case it's a combination of fantasy, mystery, and romance.

The fantasy: our hero Viscount Rexford comes from a long line of truth-seers. The men have an infallible ability to detect truth and lies, inherited along with their piercing blue eyes. Rex sees them as colored auras ("true blue" as literal), while his cousin gets an itchy rash when someone lies. It is an extremely silly premise, but provides for a lot of the comic relief in the story and some amusing dialogue and plot points.

The mystery: Amanda Carville is found holding a gun and standing over her dead wicked stepfather. She's hauled off to jail as a murderess. Only Rex and his truth-sniffing abilities can save her.

The romance: Rex and Amanda Carville, the goddaughter of his mother. Plus possibly his estranged parents who've been separated since he was ten (and Rex has never forgiven his mother for it). Cousin Daniel remains a confirmed bachelor.

Rex finds Amanda catatonic and filthy in her cell, carries her away in true romantic hero fashion, and instantly falls in love with her. Though he doesn't realize it at first, of course, but does start having lustful thoughts as soon as he sees her naked while trying to get her into clean clothes.

There are a bunch of silly plot devices that keep him from being able to ask her the question and discover the truth right away. Then more silly plot devices as he and Daniel try to solve the mystery by barging up to people and asking them point-blank if they murdered the stepfather. And yet more silly plot devices for Amanda and Rex to be lustful all over each other in fine, modern erotic fashion, while godmother et al. mostly tastefully look the other way.

Subplots revolve around the cousins' reputation during the Napoleonic War as interrogators, the mysterious head of British covert operations, the family estrangement, what law enforcement would be like if only we could know when perpetrators and witnesses are lying, etc.

As I said, generally ridiculous escapist fiction set during the Regency era. It has all of the requisite name dropping to give it the minimum of historical trappings. No depth of any sort but the dialogue is moderately engaging and the story trips along. It's better than some I've read, but it's no Heyer.

#283: It's better than some I've read, but it's no Heyer.

Nothing ever is!

Hmm... interesting about Merlin's Mirror. I'm not an Arthurian fan, but I did just try my first Andre Norton, The Solar Queen which I liked. In that book, there's no women at all.

I have every book, I think, written by Andre Norton, and I had to go back and re-acquire Merlin's Mirror when I became a completist because it is my least favorite of all her books, even the later ones. But I haven't read it in probably 30 years, so who knows if it would still be so now.

@285: Actually, the old Solar Queen stories are just about my all-time Norton favorites. I can live with the entire lack of women because the stories do work without them and fit a particular niche of storytelling. Moreover, the stories are reminiscent of Star Trek in terms of diversity--the limited crew spans the spectrum of main human racial/ethnic groups from what I recall. I read only one of the new Solar Queen stories cowritten with someone (can't remember the title). Hated it. Sure, they introduced a woman, but she was like ultimate exotic stereotype of the woman as other and totally changed the character dynamics and flavor of the story. I also hated the new cowritten book involving Ross Murdoch and the time agents (Firehand). Once again, totally different flavor than the classic stories and I thought they took the protagonist in all the wrong directions, as well as being a totally hokey story.

@286: After the two disappointments described above, as well as the new Witch World books, I decided to not bother with anything written after the 1980s. Sorry, Roni, just couldn't do it. But I am trying to infill the older stuff. I let go of the YA Star Ka'at stories a few years ago. I'm still fine with that decision.

Maybe I'll get some of the remaining reviews done this weekend, but work comes first...

@288: So you're saying that all the Solar Queen stories don't have women in them? Interesting... I was totally fine with just men in the story, but just surprised that it wasn't addressed why there was no women on Solar Queen, or on any other ship, it seemed. Like, is there a ban on them for space travel? LOL.

@289: Steph, I first encountered these books as a very young child, and I connected to Dane Thorson as the outcast who doesn't quite fit in and then finds a place with a crew of "misfits," though that's really a mischaracterization. It really didn't dawn on me at the time that there were no female characters. But yes, you raise an excellent point about the fundamental premise. I have that same attitude about James Whites and his premise that only men can be doctors (well, diagnosticians, the uberdoctors of xenomedicine) among humans, relegating women to nurses. He really does have some of the most atrocious gender stereotypes I've seen in science fiction. So then the (ultimately wrong) question arises: is it better to be absent entirely or just wrong, wrong, wrong? I admit that I keep the books for the biology and kinda squint through the sexist bits.

I will finally tackle The Parable of the Talents. This is the first novel by Octavia E. Butler that I have read, though I have recently encountered one or two of her short stories. I finished this novel in the wee hours and then suffered insomnia because the book left my head buzzing. I haven't had a book arouse such strong feelings since Joan Vinge's Psion, and perhaps, more recently, The Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson.

I would classify this story as something close to post-apocalyptic, but not quite, because it is a story about partial social collapse. It is set largely in Humboldt County in northern California but also moves around the West Coast. Because of the location and the fact that the story begins many years after the catastrophic events and involves people who survived it and are trying to rebuild their existence makes, The Postman by David Brin seems like the closest comparison. The Stand by Stephen King and Lucifer's Hammer by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle are other books that come to mind--but these are really about the catastrophe itself and the subsequent self-organization (or lack thereof) of society.

Parable of the Talents was published in 1998, when Bill Clinton was just starting his second term. The Kyoto Protocol on Climate Change had just been signed in 1997. I thing this story does an excellent job extrapolating from socioeconomic and ecological trends--her envisioned future is different in degree not direction from the actual trajectory we have experienced, IMHO.

So what am I talking about and what partial collapse? Butler's underlying premise is a synergism of ecological, economic, and social crises called "the Pox" from 2015 to 2030--global warming leading to droughts and other problems (have you seen the news from the Central Valley of CA--and a tornado on the West Coast for the first time ever), a gap between rich and poor that becomes the Grand Canyon with an economic downturn (housing bubble, anyone? what about those banks "too big to fail"?) that leaves far too many homeless and destitute (the foreclosure rates are still climbing). So while the United States continues to exist, and some areas continue unaffected, other areas basically become lawless, an anarchist's dream, I suppose. Rampant slavery in these regions abounds, but that's okay because it only affects the vagrants and other morally bankrupt individuals who don't deserve better (gotta love our national Calvinist streak, and the only fiction is that it occurs openly and affects whites and men and U.S. citizens just as much as racial minorities, particularly immigrants--slavery in the U.S. today is still largely an underground affair). In these lawless zones, small communities have to fend off slavers and other bandits while pursuing some sort of subsistence lifestyle. And of course, no real functional infrastructure or social services--so it's back to a 19th century hardscrabble existence at best.

This is the story of Lauren Oya Olamina, a young African American whose quiet, middle-class existence in a walled suburb of LA was destroyed by riots in 2028, leaving her and many others homeless and destitute. She has founded a new community in Humboldt County with other refugees struggling to create new connections and families in the wake of profound personal loss. She has also created a new religion called Earthseed. Looking about her and reflecting on the course of human history, she realizes that to break this endless cycle of progress and destruction, humanity needs a vision of greatness to inspire the best in people. And her vision is human colonies in space--in effect, the next evolutionary step for our species. The other part of her religion is that the divine is not some anthropomorphic power with a specific agenda. Instead, the underlying driver of reality is change, and we need to accept and adapt to this inevitable and essential stochastic process. "God is Change."

The format of the book is three-part chapters: first, a brief excerpt from a written source--either Olamina's religious work called Earthseed: The Books of the Living or the journals of her husband Taylor Franklin Bankole or her brother Marcos Duran. This is followed by first-person narration by Olamina's daughter that frames the storyline with her spin on ensuing events and people. Last, the main story always begins with "From The Journals of Lauren Oya Olamina" followed by the date, which starts in 2032 and ends in 2090.

The daughter is at first nameless, and her commentary in the prologue gives readers a sense of where the story must ultimately end up. But as the storyline progresses, her interpretations begins to include more personal information, so that her biases become clear by the end of the book.

I found the story ultimately wrenching because it was in many senses a tragedy of love, loyalty, conflicting ideals, and personal betrayals. Every aspect of this story was well crafted: characters, plot, dialogue, pacing, prose, concepts and ideas.

And the characters reflected the actual diversity of the West Coast, with many Anglo, Latino, Asian, and African American (sorry, don't remember any Native Americans, Middle Easter, etc., but they may have been there) major and minor characters. Most of the characters were straight, but by no means all, which turns out to be a critical plot element halfway through the story. While this wasn't a story *about* race, it did incorporate realistic racial elements. For example, Olamina's husband is the only African American medical doctor in Humboldt County, and the preexisting local communities (predominantly Anglo or Anglo/Latino) hesitate to rely on his services. And the multiracial Earthseed community of Acorn recognizes that they face threats from well-armed racist bandits in the area. This is certainly a far better approach than excluding entirely or including and pretending these issues don't exist or are somehow not relevant to defining character and shaping events.

And she has a few interesting science fiction ideas. First, some people experience "hyperempathy syndrome" as a result of in utero exposure to a highly addictive wonder drug that reverses Alzheimers and became a study aid to replace caffeine. This "delusional disorder" means that the person experiences every pain or pleasure that he or she witnesses in others. Again, important plot element in various places. Second, advanced technology in the form of the computerized slave collars and the Dreammasks (virtual reality headsets that replace books).

It's a great book, and I highly recommend it. If you don't want to read spoilers, stop here, because my more detailed analysis will necessarily include specific characters and plot points.

The title of this book comes from the Bible--Matthew 25:14-30. Olamina references this passage explicitly in the opening chapter when reminiscing about her father, the Baptist minister, in her happy youth preaching the parables. And after the story ends, the biblical parable of the talents closes the novel. So I was left wrestling with the connections between the three servants in the parable and the characters in the story. Given that the written preludes are from only Olamina, Bankole, and Marcos, I will assume that they are the characters most closely aligned, with Bankole being the servant who receives two talents. That leaves Olamina and her brother as the five-talent servant and the one-talent servant, respectively, in my reckoning, though others have assigned the reverse when I have described the story to them.

So Olamina and her band are getting along okay up in the mountains. However, they're worried about the larger political climate. The charismatic Christian governor of Texas (where have I seen that before?) is running for president. He's the founder of Church of America, and his message is that the U.S. used to be a great country until the heathens started wrecking things. The economic stagnation, the secession of Alaska, the destitution of so many--clearly the immoral influences of the wrong sort of people. So he's preaching take back America (once again, eerily familiar to you teabaggers?). And sure enough, he gets elected and launches a war with Canada and Alaska (even better than Iraq!).

In the meantime, Olamina discovers her younger brother Marcus, thought dead in the LA riots, and buys him out of slavery. He returns to Acorn with her, but he is unwilling to stay. He despises their backwards existence. He's angry that she's betrayed their upbringing by founding a cult. He's angry that she's putting community interests ahead of self-interest by refusing to relocate to a larger, well-established community that has asked Bankole to stay as their doctor, particularly since Olamina is pregnant and vulnerable and is supposed to be thinking of her baby. His attempts to preach the Baptist, or at least Christian, creed to the community do not meet with success either. And while Olamina thinks that he leaves in order to find his self-respect, rather than always being her younger brother who was rescued (i.e., living in her shadow), I think it's more than that. I think he wanted his privileged position back (while he was just a teenager in a squatter settlement, he became the local minister that others deferred to), and he wanted to be in a position of power so that he would never be vulnerable again. I think he was also fundamentally threatened by the egalitarian society she had created--everyone had an equal voice, was expected to both learn and teach and equally contribute to the community, know at least two languages, etc. Moreover, there were no specific gender roles, and he was a firm believer in women subservient to men.

So Marcos leaves, and where does he end up? Church of America, of course. Because that's where the power is. And while he may have wanted to eliminate slavery and suffering as a result of his traumatic personal experiences, his preferred solution was a top-down tyranny created by the uniting of political, economic, religious, and military power as represented by President Jarrett that would force people to be good, moral Christians or face the consequences. This is very different from Olamina's grassroots solution of inspiring many individuals to believe in and voluntarily contribute to a larger cause.

The small community in the mountains and the larger political force collide in the form of Jarrett's Crusaders--a paramilitary/religious group that turns Acorn into a reeducation camp (hello, Cultural Revolution of China). All of the children, including Olamina's infant, are taken away to be brought up as proper Christians (hello, Australian, American, and Canadian "solutions" to the indigenous problem).

So Marcos may have felt that Olamina betrayed her family upbringing and her duties as wife and mother. Olamina may have felt that leaving Acorn would have been betraying her new family and duties as religious leader. In the end, Olamina feels betrayed when she turns to Marcos to help her find her baby, and he insists there is nothing he can do. So he chooses his religion over his family, self-protection over facing hard truths, privilege over justice (or maybe not the last, because she is a heathen, even if she is his sister). And the daughter feels betrayed because her mother did not manage to find her against all odds. In fact, she feels her mother chose proselytizing her religion over her child. And that left a bad taste in my mouth. Hence my turmoil and upset. But that's a good thing in the end, as I was forced to chew over the title and meanings and so on over a period of months.

A marvelous, meaty review, Chris. It's been a number of years since I read this book, but I remember it definitely had an impact. Have you ever read Ursula Le Guin's Always Coming Home? Also post-apocalyptic set in the Northwest. I think you'd find it interesting.

Yup. Read it years ago, though I didn't listen to the accompanying music (wasn't with the library book). I liked that book as well. I am always somewhat fond of books in settings that are a part of my life, and she explored many different cultural ideas in addition to innovative storytelling. I'm a big Le Guin fan.

I would group Always Coming Home with other well-after-the-apocalypse novels, such as Diana L. Paxson's Westria series, Dreamsnake by Vonda McIntyre (another favorite), possibly Pandora's Children, Breed to Come by Norton, and possibly the Marooned in Realtime storyline by Vernor Vinge.

That's from a quick perusal of my shelves. I tend to blank on names and stories without the visual cues.

As a result of reading The Parable of the Talents, I reread both The Postman by David Brin and The Stand by Stephen King. I enjoyed both of them the first time I read them, but can see some issues with both now. More on both of those tomorrow, hopefully.

@290: Wow, that was an indepth review of Parable of Talents. I will definitely put that on the TBR. I think the most interesting part that you talk about is how some areas carry on as if nothing happened, while others descend into anarchy. Most dystopian novels tend to have the whole continent go up in flames.

As to the Solar Queen, I didn't mind there was no women in the book, but just surprised that there was no mention of them at all. It was getting to the point where I was wondering if women didn't even exist in the universe anymore. It was an element of world-building that usually isn't missing in a book. So, is the rest of the series like that too?

@295: There are a few of women (or female aliens) who show up in the rest of the series, but you couldn't call them anything as large as actual characters (I think they're mostly window dressing without dialogue). There are the Sitllith female at the beginning and the settlers' families later in Postmarked the Stars. And the Salariki noblewomen in Plague Ship. I can't remember any women in Sargasso of Space, unless there's a mistress among the jacks. Generally, it's a boy's story, all throughout, girlz keep out. But it wasn't necessarily unusual for the writing of the era. And even today, quite a few books and movies seem to include women strictly to demonstrate the sexual prowess of the hero. If it's a boy's story without the sexual element, then I guess they needn't bother, even today.

But this isn't to paint Andre Norton in a bad light. She also had several books with a woman protagonist--not part of an ensemble cast, just by herself. Examples include Perilous Dreams (at least at the beginning), Wraiths of Time, a few of the Witch World stories, and most notably Ordeal in Otherwhere. And that was a rarity in the day. Most of her stories revolve around protagonists who are social outsiders, many involve equal partnerships between person and animal (Catseye, X Factor, Daybreak 2250 A.D., Moon of Three Rings) or between man and woman, also often with animals involved (both pretty much in contrast to the themes of the day)--such as Judgment on Janus, Here Abide Monsters, Yurth Burden, No Night Without Stars, Exiles of the Stars and more of the Witch World books.

ETA further discussion of Norton's body of work

I'll move on to The Postman by David Brin. I first read this when I was in college, or maybe high school. It made a big impression, and I really liked it. Now rereading it many years later, particularly in the wake of The Parable of the Talents, it just doesn't compare.

Again, the similarities: the protagonist is a survivor of social collapse many years earlier--17 years in the case of The Postman, probably something comparable in The Parable of the Talents. Both are set in the Pacific Northwest--The Postman largely takes place in the Willamette Valley of Oregon, though touches on the Rogue River Valley further south and parts of eastern Oregon. The Parable of the Talents is set largely in Humboldt County in northern California, with some passages set in Oregon and further north and some areas in central California. Both involve a protagonist hoping to find a better future, given the current disastrous conditions. However, Olamina *is* the change she wants to see, working ever to make that change happen, founding a new community, leading people to aspire to greatness, making difficult choices, suffering and going on despite it.

Gordon isn't quite as compelling and sympathetic a protagonist. He's spent the last 17 years working his way from the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest, hoping to find someone *else* has kept the torch of civilization alive. In the opening chapters of The Postman, we learn that he has found a livelihood as a wandering performer--putting on shows with bits and pieces of plays, songs, poems, whatever fragments of culture he can remember, all the while sneering at himself and his audience for how low and ignorant they all are. In fact, his attitude through much of the book is arrogant and condescending--later on it's more of an act to maintain what he considers to be a vital illusion, but the attitude is quite real at the beginning.

But in the opening chapter, he loses most of his hard-earned goods and finds refuge in a postal delivery truck lost in the mountains. He dons the hat and coat and delivery bag and finds that in the next town *he* begins to embody the dream of civilization, quite unintentionally. Going along with the (not) joke, he begins talking about the Restored United States and setting up post offices in the Pacific Northwest. So he is surprised by people's desperate desire to believe, but takes advantage of it, propagates it, until it is a movement with a life of its own. While mocking himself and them for the foolishness.

Then he runs into another dream--an AI computer that survived the disaster in Corvallis--and an imminent threat--the Holnists. So here are the science fiction elements of the story, actual artificial intelligence, and ubermacho survivalists whose anarchist uprisings around the United States destroyed the slow recovery from the initial disaster that led to partial social collapse. These Holnists basically completed the social collapse and represent the worst elements of human nature--the strong dominating the weak, men enslaving women, and so on. SPOILER HERE: And of course it turns out that the leaders of this Holnist invasion force are specially engineered supermen from a secret military project--how trite is that? And even worse, since it was a secret government experiment on people, of course they used sociopaths. Talk about the worst, most stereotypical, hackneyed plot device.

There's some racial diversity among the characters, in the sense that there are several black characters, some in key roles. I'm not really recalling any Latinos, Asians, or other ethnicities. And I believe everyone is straight. No religion here. There are plenty of women characters, but they are largely downtrodden in this brave, new, postapocalyptic man's world. And given the limited populations with possible genetic and fertility issues in the wake of warfare and whatnot, there's an indication of some creative solutions beyond the traditional monogamous marriage. Deena, Gordon's romantic interest is portrayed as a wacky, idealistic, deluded girl full of strange ideas like feminism that belong to a former age. But she and her band of young women and their symbolic act create a legend. Whatever. I don't think I care for his approach to gender roles.

David Brin explicitly draws upon the classical traditions in this story, including Lysistrata, Cincinnatus, and the Oracle at Delphi. He wants to explore how ideas, metaphors, attitudes inspire people and shape events. In large part, this appears to be a meditation on war and human nature and the needs of society, once again, not necessarily too different from The Parable of the Talents. However, his is a sledgehammer approach that relies too much on internal exposition, outright manipulation, a whole series of not very engaging characters, and the big manfight in the end (and female sacrifice, mustn't forget that--so misguided and unnecessary, but that's nice, girls, your heart's in the right place). So it's still an okay book, but doesn't hold a candle to Octavia Butler's approach.

>297 justchris: Go post this review on the book page, Chris, so I can give it a thumbs up.

Also, I don't kow how to break this to you, but it is time, and past time, for a new thread. Yes, you need to become a member of the two-threaders! Have pity on those with slow connections. And, congratulations.

@298: Thanks for the thumbs up. It looks like it only takes two to make it to the hot reviews (on a slow day, perhaps), so it was on the main page for a brief moment.

You're totally right Roni, I need to move on. However, I have only two reviews left, and they're important to me. I just haven't had the energy to sit down and write them. I'll try the first one now...

The Stand by Stephen King was a reread provoked by my first experience with Octavia Butler's The Parable of the Talents. The Stand has something of cult classic status--beloved by many readers who otherwise are not Stephen King fans. It is perhaps his best-known novel, outside of the books turned into movies like Carrie, though they did make a TV miniseries of The Stand.

The Stand is an apocalyptic metaphysical final battle between good and evil set in the United States. Like every Stephen King work, it is a massive tome--the "complete and uncut" version that I have runs to 1153 pages. It was originally published in 1978, and the version that I have was published in 1990.

The story begins by visiting half of the ensemble cast of 20 major characters in their normal, everyday lives in the summer of 1990. But the action quickly ensues, relying on all of the stereotypical tropes and wringing all of the drama and excitement from them: secret military installation where biological weapons research is occurring--the superflu escapes, spreads rapidly, decimates the majority of the population while the government tries to cover it up initially by using covert military ops to try to quarantine outbreaks and destroy evidence, then overt military violence to control the media and efforts to flee outbreaks. Secret research project, check. Military as bad guys, check. Overall government conspiracy, check.

The first 10 main characters are scattered around the country, but as events ensue, they and their storylines begin to converge, as the remaining half of the major characters also appear. After vignettes of catastrophic pandemic, panic, individual attempts to cope or not cope, and so on involving over a hundred named secondary characters (and many more unnamed), the story moves on to the handful of survivors who begin experiencing prophetic dreams guiding the good guys to Mother Abigail in Nebraska, and then Boulder, Colorado, and the bad guys to Randall Flagg in Las Vegas, Nevada. Mother Abigail and Randall Flagg are apparently the personifications of good and evil, but while the former is an extremely old (108!) and devout little woman, the latter is not human, though he does a good job of pretending, most of the time, if you ignore his supernatural powers and occasional lapses of control over his shape.

It is somewhat biblical in its themes--temptation, betrayal, sacrifice, etc. But hey, what can you expect when dealing with the stereotypes of good and evil? And this book is all about stereotypes and trite characterizations. Don't get me wrong--the action and moments of suspense are gripping. And King has a fine grasp of description, using it quite effectively to add to the mood. But the characters and plot are all so predictable.

And here's the bigger problems--rather than just rereading it for pleasure, I sat down this time and took notes. I've come to the reluctant conclusion that Stephen King has some racist tendencies. First of all, of the 20 major characters, only 1 is obviously African American (Mother Abigail), 14 are clearly identified as white at some point, and 5 did not include enough physical description to be sure, but they were probably white, since that is the usual default in absence of a specific race mentioned.

I documented 274 separate named characters in the first 1000 pages (I became too weary to get through the remaining 153 pages). Of these, only 4 are clearly Latino--one of them a drug addict, the others a bartender, maid, and ambulance driver. No Asians--but one white boy is described as having "Chinese" eyes the color of the sea. Mother Abigail is African American, as are 15 family members described in her backstory. Otherwise, the only other named African American characters are the Ratman in Las Vegas, and a heroin addict who dies of an overdose in one of the vignettes. No other racial or ethnic groups are included. Admittedly, most of these characters don't even have a physical description. However, the vast majority of the names are northern European, which is to say, mostly Germanic and English, with perhaps a smattering of Celtic, Scandinavian, maybe one or two French or Italian. Forget about anything eastern European or originating from other continents. And when a physical description is provided, it is usually blue eyes and blond hair.

Moreover, the term nigger is used in every instance of a white character specifically talking about African Americans in their neighborhood/history (more backstories or initial normal conditions) or bad guys referencing Mother Abigail. These are characters located in Texas, New York, and Indiana--so it isn't supposed to represent some sort of regional habit. And yes, the book was written in 1978, but I gotta say that was not a term I grew up hearing in my neighborhood, and the events are set in 1990 and beyond--how much less likely. Admittedly, the term was used more in internal exposition than actual dialogue, but then is Stephen King trying to suggest that most whites use the term when no one is looking? I beg to differ.

Then there's the fact that apparently only white people survived the catastrophe (with rare exception). Oh sure, there's a comment by one of the main characters about the diversity of people streaming into Colorado and the inevitable conflicts that are likely to ensue--but one reference to offscreen diversity does not impress me. And Mother Abigail is the ultimate magical negro, as others have noted. And Randall Flagg, the embodiment of evil, though described as generally blond with blue eyes is always referred to as the Black Man, rather than the Dark Man, because, you know, all things black are bad. And while various characters voluntarily or not partake of pills (the kinder, gentler, or at least more genteel form of drug abuse), the only characters portrayed as serious addicts of heroin, coke, or whatever, are racial minorities.

So that's the race issue. Sexuality? Well of course just about everyone is straight. There's one woman who is outed as bisexual, but that isn't necessarily a big deal (she dies anyways). The only remotely homosexual scene involves the mentally unstable Trashcan Man being sodomized with a gun while forced to give a handjob to The Kid, who was truly insane (and came to a bad end, of course). So only crazies perform non-straight sex acts. The other person whose sexuality is worth mentioning is Harold Lauder. Starting out as an overweight, pimply nerd, he is Frannie Goldsmith's neighbor. They are two of the most important characters, and the only survivors in their small Maine town. So they begin traveling together, and Harold is hopeful of getting it on with Frannie, but then Stu Redmann comes along. Harold represents all of the worst male tendencies (not that these are limited to men): possessive, jealous, insecure, objectifying women, etc. It turns out his fantasies revolve around dominating and humiliating women. Of course a terrible personality would be into BDSM, because nice people don't do that. Isn't kinky sex how you identify the bad guys? Whatever. Of course, just about the worst characters in this arena were a group of straight white men who kept a "zoo" of drugged and horribly sexually abused women. So white and straight is no guarantee of "good" status.

And another big issue? Well, it seems that the people who were drawn to Las Vegas were not always evil, but also those who were social outsiders, who didn't have a personal history involving a loving, caring family, or otherwise had some sort of dysfunctional background or marginalized lifestyle. So the popular kids end up being the good guys? The people from unbroken homes? People who had not experienced real adversity and hardship? Seems a little unfair.

Once again, a gripping read, but problematic in so many ways, and doesn't stack up against The Parable of the Talents.

I don't think I could ever get through The Stand. I've only read two books by King (Four Past Midnight and Needful Things) and I couldn't stand either. I had planned on someday trying out his "best" books, like Carrie, but I'm not in a rush. I couldn't imagine trying out this book, and with all the things you mention.. the lack of diversity (in all forms), the N-word, and the dumping on marginalized people... it seems not worth the 1000+ pages.

@301: Hey Steph. This is really irritating...I posted a response last night, and now I don't see it. Anyway, the two Stephen King books I like best are The Dead Zone and It. I haven't read any of the well-known books turned into movies. In fact, the only movie based on Stephen King that I've seen is Carrie. I've dabbled in the horror/suspense genre, and I must admit that I prefer Dean R. Koontz. His stories have more plausible premises, more compelling characters, and half the verbiage. I particularly like Lightning.

Now to my last book review of 2009, and hey, it's only February 2010--that's not bad for me :).

A Woman of the Iron People by ELeanor Arnason was a gift from my friend Matt. It's the second Arnason book I've read (Ring of Swords was the first, also from the same friend). I liked this one better than the first, in contrast to Matt, who liked Ring of Swords better. Eleanor Arnason appears to have a thing for catlike intelligent species, since both books feature different feline aliens. She also uses these nonhuman cultures to explore the nature of gender roles, using the first-contact setting to contrast with human preconceptions/assumptions.

The story is in third person and reads something like a science fiction/mythological Canterbury Tales. It's something of a first-contact novel, where a human expedition sends ethnologists down to this new planet to study the primitive native culture. And like many human traditional cultures, the natives are organized into tribes who have their own territories, with some movement and trade among their different communities. Like Ring of Swords, the sexes are geographically separated--the women live communally in villages, the men lead solitary existences in their individual territories located around the villages. During breeding season, the women head out into the hills (male territories). All social interactions are structured around gift giving (since they do not have the concept of money), and individual tribes are known (named) for particular gifts (or skills, if you will), such as working iron or copper or weaving reed baskets.

Much of the story is told from the native perspective, starting with Nia, the woman who gives the book its title. She's a blacksmith who had trouble in her home village and moved away. When Lu Lixia, a Hawai'ian of Chinese ethnicity, appears on the scene, Nia decides to travel with her. So begins the road trip. Along the way, they pick up some traveling companions and have various run-ins with other characters. The other two travelers who join them are Voice of the Waterfall--a very atypical native man and shaman--and Derek, another ethnographer and the only male agent who manages to remain on the planet, given that men aren't allowed into villages and strangers aren't welcome in male territories. Derek is a California cross between Native American and surfer dude--with dark skin and bleached blonde hair, and one of the few on the expedition with that rarest of all sinecures--academic tenure.

So the four travelers range across the landscape, sharing stories (and collecting more stories from people they meet), running into trouble (not hard to do when they're violating social norms by traveling together, leaving aside that two of them are clearly not native), and generally having an interesting time. Meanwhile, back on the human ship, controversy develops. Establish an outpost or a full-blown colony or just collect information?

Arnason has done a fabulous job of world-building. Moreover, I like the cultures she's developed here. I love that much of the communication is nonverbal, relying on a great many hand gestures to convey feelings and opinions. One of the problems the humans face is trying to explain human history to the natives who have no concept of war (another detail I love). And while she makes it very clear what the social norms are, in terms of gender roles, village dynamics, and the like, every character we meet violates those norms to some degree, so that in the end we feel like everyone has some experience being the "other," and every person has to find an individual solution to how to fit in or at least get along. And even someone like Nia, who is by the time of the story widely infamous for her "perversion" of shacking up with a man to raise a nuclear family together in the hills, still has quite conventional attitudes and can be appalled by someone else's quirk that doesn't fit societal mores. And she's done a great job showing the inherent diversity among individuals and groups, within the shared social and biological framework.

The other reason I like the story is the take on human history. My friend thinks this part of the story is satire, and whether it is or not, I think it's brilliant. Nearly all science fiction stories that posit human space travel from Earth conceive of either a single, unified planetary government in some sort of we're all one big happy human family utopia, or capitalism and democracy in space--lots of individual merchant types or a sort of international space colonization race--the American model in space (given that I'm reading mostly authors from the U.S., I guess this isn't too surprising). And many authors start from more distant future points that have little connection to our current geopolitical and socioeconomic situation. And of course, most humans in these science fiction scenarios are white, straight, etc.

Not in this book. Arnason appears to start from the geopolitical situation of the last 30 years or so. This human ship is a collaborative venture by a coalition of governments and other organizations. None of them have hegemony, and just about all of the continents and cultural groups are represented, from indigenous South Americans to Marxist Chinese to Russians and so on. Moreover, all of the supplies were donated by just about every organization and institution on earth, so the human expedition is like a giant ad campaign, with every dish, item of clothing, or first-aid bandage labeled with the name of that particular sponsor. There's a certain sly humor to this--when the fair-skinned Lixia is injured and applies the flesh-toned synthetic skin, it turns out to be extremely dark brown because it came from an African republic (I'm blanking on which one right now). Similarly, the characters remark how difficult it is to eliminate the sexism or racism inherent to the English language thanks to various idioms still in use.

So Arnason does a fabulous job creating diverse human and native characters, making this story very different from mainstream science fiction. She doesn't really address human religion at all, though she does explore native spiritual beliefs thanks to the shaman in the group, the shamenesses and others they meet, the various creation myths they encounter, and some of the trouble they run into.

Sexuality could be considered a bit of a weakness, and I suspect why Matt is less fond of this book. Derek and Lixia appear to be very straight, since they hook up and there's no indication either is bisexual. I don't think any other human has enough of a role to know their sexual orientation, because the human part of the plot is strictly political rather than personal. And the only evidence of homosexual activity among the natives is regarded with deep loathing and suspicion by Nia, the main native protagonist. When we first encounter her, she has a smithy outside of a village where some of the women go off into the forest together rather than seeking men during breeding season.

The cover sucks and has nothing to do with the story. That's the major flaw in this book. It's full of great characters, good dialogue, many interesting ideas and perspectives, and a plot that keeps moving at a steady pace. If you like storytelling and social exploration, this is the book for you.

Seems like a good book to round off the year. If you enjoyed this, you might like a series by Phyllis Gotlieb, done about a decade earlier. Your description reminds me mightily of her Starcats trilogy, A Judgment of Dragons, Emperors, Swords, Pentacles, and The Kingdom of the Cats. The first won Canada's top science fiction award, and they really are well done. Not at all cutesy, and dealing with very serious issues.

I own the first two books and definitely like them because they are so very different from anything else. Didn't realize there was a third book. Thanks Roni, I'll have to hunt for it, and hopefully I'll have better luck than most of my other obscure book searches.

The postage will cost you twice as much as the book, at $3.90 and $1.90 respectively at ABEbooks
http://www.abebooks.com/KINGDOM-CATS-Gotlieb-Phyllis-Ace-Science/146786648/bd

Amazon has 26 used starting at $.01, so that would be $4 total with shipping. 2 of th 4 at that price are rated in Very Good condition too.

I have them in my library, of course. Now there's an author I wish had been more prolific!

@306: Thanks for doing my homework, Roni. I'll check into it when I have some cash--right now the credit card's a little high, I'm afraid.

Great review of A Woman of Iron People. I don't think I will get it, I seem to be ambivalent about stories about storytelling. I had more than enough of my fill reading Gaiman last year - he seems to love that theme. But that's awesome that you're done your 2009 reviews... you finished before me! Although, I have managed to finish five 2010 reviews, which I'm fairly proud about.

What have you been reading lately?

@308: Well, I finished only because I decided not to review the three Cherryh books which are in my frequent reread category (if not those particular novels, then others from the same series).

I can understand wanting to take a break from a particular style after a surfeit. I have not reached my limit on storytelling, since many of the books in my life haven't really excelled at that--even if they are good novels, they may not have a storytelling approach. And professionally I'm a little enamored of narratives at the moment. In the science field, many people don't seem to grasp that narratives are important. Certainly, it is the narratives that frame political debate (although "debate" is a misnomer in the United States today, perhaps "discourse" would be more apt).

Take a look at my 2010 list--I haven't gotten far on the reviews, but I've kept the list in the first post up to date. I've just plowed through a bunch of westerns before wrapping them as a gift. I have to get the reivews finished this week for the same reason.

#303: Great review of A Woman of the Iron People which sounds like it is worth seeking out. Thanks, Chris!

@310: I know this response is very late, and probably won't be noticed, but what the heck. A final note on A Woman of the Iron People: it was one of the inaugural winners of the James Tiptree Jr award.

Cauterize pointed out that I failed to post a link to my 2010 thread. Sorry about that. Here it is.

#311: I noticed it (eventually, lol). Thanks for the info, Chris.