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I finished The Book of Elsewhere, by China Mieville and Keanu Reeves. It’s like Mieville wrote a movie for Reeves to star in, for better and worse.
It’s weird, and literate, and nonlinear, and full of John Wick action sequences with lots of blood and people in fancy suits (I assume the suits are fancy). Keanu Reeves wrote a book with a character named Keever, which I’m sure isn’t coincidence, but it’s not the character that he plays in the movie (I assume, eventually).
I enjoyed it a great deal, even if I poke fun at it. The Goodreads reviews are interesting, and I’m pretty sure I can put them in two categories:
- One- and two-star reviews written by people who read it because of Keanu Reeves’s name on the cover (“this book was too weird, DNF!”)
- Four- and five-star reviews written by people who read it because of China Mieville’s name on the cover (me).
It’s not Mieville’s best, not up there with Perdido Street Station or The City and the City, but it’s a pretty fun, takes-itself-entirely-too-seriously-for-a-book-starring-a-murderous-eighty-thousand-year-old-pig romp.
Finished it. I’d give it a B. Kind of meh, especially compared to her later novels.
I’m now almost halfway through the audiobook of The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch, a fantasy novel about a master thief in a decadent, quasi-medieval seaport city and the elaborate cons he and his sly, happy-go-lucky gang pull off. I’ve thought of quitting several times, but it’s held my interest just enough to keep going.
I spent a lot of the book thinking that this was another Barry Sue novel, where everything would just be hunky dory. And then a horse peed.
I bailed on it… I decided I couldn’t stay invested in such an abusive, manipulative hero(?).
Finished This Cursed House, by Del Sandeen, although I was tempted to ditch it the whole time. It’s basically a V.C. Andrews book about a black family in New Orleans. I was really annoyed with the main character, who can see and hear ghosts. If she would only do so, all the mysteries could have been cleared up a lot sooner, but no, she doesn’t waaaaaaaaaant to. 
The Good
I found the latest Rivers of London novella, Masquerades of Spring, at the library yesterday. Glee! It’s set in 1920s New York and features a young (the first time) Nightingale so I’m looking forward to it very much.
The Bad
I started, and then quickly gave up on, both of Charlie Jane Ander’s novels, All the Birds in the Sky and The City in the Middle of the Night. The first because I couldn’t take the constant unrelenting child abuse of the heroine and the second because the first few pages were a series of vaguely-connected vignettes of the main character at school in which the interesting parts were completely skipped. Looks like someone else just ended up on my “avoid” list.
The Ugly
I tossed Goat Song by Frank Yerby away disdainfully with only two chapters to go because it was angrying up my blood. From the description on the cover, I was expecting a tale of ancient Greece focusing on how a Spartan boy rose from slavery to being one of the prime movers-and-shakers of Socrates (or Sokrates as Yerby spelled it) era Athens. It did not say anything about the CONSTANT and DISGUSTING HOMOPHOBIA that filled the pages.
Yes, folks, I didn’t think it was possible either. A homophobic novel about Ancient Greece. As the lady in Father Ted said, “They invented gayness!”
Since the “hero” Ariston had been sold into a brothel, I was hoping that his antipathy to sex with men was due to him being repeatedly raped. After all, he had the hots for a hot boy in his class back in Sparta. But as the horrible stereotypes of gay men proliferated I realized that, no, Yerby was trying to portray homosexual love in B.C.E. Athens as a Bad Thing That Nobody Liked. Even though the cover description made a point of his extensive research into the time period. I guess “extensive research” meant something different back then.
Now this book was published in the 1960s and Yerby was a Noted Novelist of the time, so he was probably trying to reinforce the American cultural stereotypes and making sure nobody thought he was Teh Gay or condoning Teh Gay. But if he was going to do that, could he have possibly written a novel about a culture in which Teh Gay was considered normal and acceptable?
If you see this book anywhere, please throw it in the nearest fire and make sure no one ever touches it again. Alas I must return my copy to the library because it’s not worth the money I’d have to pay them to replace it.
Someone slept through history class… or graduated from BYU.
Finished House Made of Dawn by N. Scott Momaday and Simple Gifts: A Memoir of a Shaker Village by Jane Sprigg.The former had wonderful descriptions of scenery in New Mexico, but I couldn’t recommend the rest of it. The latter was written by a woman who worked as a tour guide at one of the last Shaker Villages in 1972. She met most of the surviving Shakers. I thought it was interesting, and would recommend it to anyone interested in the subject. (I chose “Simple Gifts”, the most famous Shaker hymn, as my wedding march.)
Now I’m reading Liberty’s Daughter, a science fiction mystery by Naomi Kritzer. It’s a collection of stories originally appearing in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.
Ooh! Excited by the Rivers of London thing. It’s been awhile since I’ve read any of those–I should definitely get back into that series.
And I hate that I hate Charlie Jane Anders’s books, but I do. I’ve read both of those books, and they felt like she’s trying to win an argument: she sets up philosophical opponents and acts like she’s gonna portray them both equally, but one of them is always a straw man, set up to be devastated by the one that Anders agrees with. Even though I agree with Anders, I find her books tedious and moralizing.
I just finished The Dead Cat Tail Assassins, by P Djeli Clark. It’s a silly romp of a novel about undead assassins in a fantasy city, featuring a Job Gone Wrong, and is entertaining enough, but I’m not gonna remember anything about the book two weeks from now. A cotton candy novel.
Finished Liberty’s Daughter, by Naomi Kritzer, which I enjoyed, mostly for the worldbuilding.
Next up: And Then? And Then? What Else?, by Daniel Handler, and “Broadsword Calling Danny Boy”: Watching Where Eagles Dare, by Geoff Dyer.
Geoff Dyer? The guy who did the series on war? I’d be interested on his take on this super-macho deception-within-deception commando story. Where Eagles Dare has as much to do with real war and real commando raids as James Bond has with actual espionage.
I finished the audiobook of Douglas Preston’s Impact. I own this, and recall the first part, but not the end. I think it’s because the characters started doing such unbelievably stupid things that I couldn’t stand listening to it the first time, and just stopped listening. This time I listened all the wy through, taking the stupid actions (of which there were plenty) in small bits so that I could tolerate listening to them.
my God these people are dense. Wyman Ford, who’s supposed to be an ex-quasi-CIA agent, makes a lot of the stupid moves himself, dangerously misjudging situations (If you drive a stolen car across several hundred miles to the home town of the person you’re trying to protect, don’t be surprised when the contract killer looking for you (and has police department contacts) traces you back to that town and starts threatening their family). His heroes suffer considerably, but they’re still the beneficiaries of coincidence and occasional good luck.
Now I’ve moved on to Adam Higginbotham’s Challenger, about the Challenger Disaster and those involved.
I finished reading Talbot Mundy’s King – of the Khyber Rifles. It was interesting, but I could do without the “outmaneuvering each other to no purpose” that makes up a lot of the book. Mundy seemed to feel the need to give you a Shocking Tableau every now and then, even if t was wholly inconsistent with the characters, then trying to come up with an explanation for why the characters sometimes did things at odds with their goals. If I was Athelstan King, I’d be leey of settling down with a Mysterious Woman who tried to have me killed numerous times.
Now onto Nero Wolfe’s Murder in Triplicate as a palate-cleanser before I move on to the next major undertaking.
Started today on In the Mad Mountains, a collection of stories by Joe R. Lansdale, inspired by the work of H.P. Lovecraft. Two great tastes that taste great together? We shall see.
Just finished Guillotine, by Delilah S. Dawson. A working-class girl gets invited to a rich-people island, and mayhem follows.
T. Kingfisher describes this as something like “Glass Onion meets Saw,” and that’s close, but “Saw” overstates how vicious the violence is, in my mind: it’s closer to “The Menu” in tone. Nasty, brutish, and short, the book was a quick afternoon read. Had the main killer spent less time reciting the ills done to her and her allies, I would’ve preferred it–I’m perfectly happy assuming the victims had it coming. Nevertheless, a lot of fun, and if you like watching billionaires suffer, pick it up!
Bite: An Incisive History of Teeth, from Hagfish to Humans Bill Schutt
A light-hearted but informative look at the history of teeth among the animals, and teeth in human culture, including a long look at George Washington’s dentures. (They weren’t made out of wood, but might have included his teeth taken from enslaved persons.)
Just passed the halfway point for the audiobook of The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch. It’s kind of a slog, but now I want to see how it turns out.
I’ve been reading John Scalzi’s latest, Starter Villain, aloud with one of my sons. More like crime comedy than Scalzi’s usual sf; we’re enjoying it.
Also still reading June Thomson’s pastiche Sherlock Holmes and the Lady in Black, with Dr. Watson helping out Holmes in retirement on the Sussex Downs, and Four Thousand Weeks: Time Managment for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman, light-hearted advice on how not to get overwhelmed by your to-do lists. Both are OK but not great.
I finished Steal the Key by Maz Maddox. Urban fantasy, necromancy, vampires and a cute kitten…
The series on war was done by Gwynne Dyer, not Geoff Dyer.
Finished And Then? And Then? What Else?, by Daniel Handler (Meh) and “Broadsword Calling Danny Boy”: Watching Where Eagles Dare, by Geoff Dyer, which was quite amusing. The author snarks about not just the lack of realism in the movie, but also references the cast’s other acting credits and personal lives.
Next up: Wild Spaces, a dark fantasy by S. L. Coney, and A Little Fantasy Everywhere, an anthology edited by Dina A. Leacock.
I absolutely adore these books - some of my favorite of all time, until right around where you are at, when the series goes completely off the rails (IMO). I can’t remember which book it is, but I’ve never experienced such a rapid drop of enjoyment from any series before. I was so bummed.