Mrs. Favell Lee Mortimer (1802 - 1878), despite only having twice left her native England (and those trips were brief), penned multiple travel guides aimed toward children, using various (and perhaps questionable) sources. She drew on her expertise as an Evangelical/Moralist children’s book author, as well as her own (and her society’s) prejudices of the day to write some of the most judgmental, preachy, intolerant, and downright nasty sketches of nations and peoples that I’ve had the pleasure to read.
Pleasure, you ask? I suppose it’s her condescending, didactic tone "What country do you love best? Your own country. I know you do. Every child loves his own country best. " and unshakable confidence in her opinions (as well as the separation of 150 years) that makes her material a comedic exaggeration as opposed to a sad and frightening commentary on bigotry and xenophobia. Maybe it’s because she writes disparagingly of everyone; not even her fellow Britons get away clean: * "They are not very pleasant in company, because they do not like strangers, nor taking much trouble … They are too fond of money, as well as of good eating and drinking. "* While she abhors slavery (as every good Evangelical did, back in her day) she attacks both rich and poor across the globe - considering both “lazy”. She harbors animosity not only toward “Mahomedans” and “Hindoos”, but Roman Catholics and Jews as well.
Todd Pruzan’s opening chapter provides both biographical and historical context for Mrs Mortimer and her writings. She suffered adversity and overall did not seem to be a happy woman. Prior to each nation’s sketch, Pruzan gives a brief history of the area for context. He obviously chose each piece of writing for comedic impact, but it’s fascinating (and depressing) to see how many prejudices carry over into modern day, something he also touches on in his opening chapter. While primarily a humorous book, to be read very much tongue in cheek, it also speaks to our modern day experiences with racism, intolerance and “othering”.
Elendil’s Heir: Oh, god…I LOVE McTeague! I’ve re-read it a dozen times!
Just finished Kingsley Amis’s 1953 comic academia novel Lucky Jim. I’d started it a few times over the years and given up. I didn’t realize it only starts to get FUNNY by chapter three, when Dixon gets drunk and sets the bedclothes on fire. I’ve been on an Amis binge…One Fat Englishman, The Green Man…and decided I needed to go back and read his first book. HIGHLY recommended. Just hold your nose until chapter three. When it gets funny. VERY funny.
Currently jumping back and forth between bicoastal urban histories: Donald Miller’s Supreme City: How Jazz Age Manhattan Gave Birth to Modern America and Los Angeles in the 1930s: the WPA Guide to the City of Angels.
Ooooooooooh, you’d love Whittlesley’s Death in Yellowstone! Some amazing morons in there! “Bob Smith’s dog leaped into a bubbling sulphur pit. Bob Smith leaped in to save him.” Cleaning up the gene pool, I call it.
I started The Drop by Michael Connelly and while I am only 32 pages into it, i really want to know WHO actually wrote it. The narrative is clunky and there are whole sentences that sound like a high schooler making an explanation. It’s unnerving, particularly after reading the extremely well written The Fifth Witness last week.
I’m just starting Seveneves by Stephenson. I’ve got a long way to go before I make any decisions. So far, I’m slightly disconcerted by his “Explain it like I’m five” writing style which is eerily dispassionate considering the scope of the disaster unfolding. I get the sense he’s not really interested in rehashing the psychology of the end of the world, so he’s basically just saying “Let’s pretend for now that everyone decides to cooperate on creating a space ark rather than running around looting and trying to get laid one last time before the skies fall.”
But the book is young, and maybe that stuff happens too.
I am kind of skeptical of the math behind the
White Sky event. As Stephenson points out, the fragments of the moon are still being pulled together by gravity. So even if they’re colliding, what gives them the kinetic energy to de-orbit in large quantities and collide with the Earth? Is this a known theory?
I used to have a co-worker who worked at the inn at Yellowstone for a while. She told me that story along with the gruesome aftermath. You do ***not ***want to hop in a geyser, hot spring, or anything that’s bubbling in Yellowstone.
Re-“reading” a Charles Stross book, this time the audio version. One of the Laundry Files ones. I had found audio books tedious, but listening at 3x speed really helps, so I’m trying that out.
It discusses every single recorded death ever in the Grand Canyon. Though I use the word “discuss” rather loosely. The chapters are broken up into different kinds of deaths, like falls, environmental deaths, murders, etc. At the end of every chapter is a table, and in the table it lists every person that died, their age, gender, year, and a brief description of what happened. While not every single death is mentioned in the prose, every death is mentioned in the table. (There are also some stories where the person didn’t die, but very nearly did. Those stories tend to be the most interesting ones because you often get to hear the perspective of the person who nearly died.)
I don’t know how many deaths there are in the Grand Canyon in the average year. In the introduction to the book, the authors say that this is one of the most frequently asked questions, but then they didn’t actually answer the question, which I thought was an odd thing to do. I don’t think they ever said how many deaths there were in total, either.
I will say that the book is 400 pages, so clearly enough people died/almost died to fill 400 pages of text!
Last book I finished was Hell with the Lid Blown Off, a mystery by Donis Casey. (The main character, Alafair Tucker, is a farmer’s wife in rural Oklahoma; this book, the seventh in the series, is set in 1916.)
I’m currently reading 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, by Jules Verne. I had the Classics Illustrated version when I was a kid, but this is the first time I’ve actually read the book.
And I’ve started reading The Insidious Dr Fu-Manchu, by Sax Rohmer, on the Project Gutenberg website.
Zipped through John Scalzi’s Old Man’s War and enjoyed it all over again. Lively writing style, smartass dialogue, nifty military tech, exciting battle scenes, an understated romance, and just the right amount of moralizing. Now I want to read the others in the series again, beginning with The Ghost Brigades.
I’ve also started David Herbert Donald’s We Are Lincoln Men, about Abraham Lincoln’s close personal and political friends, and unfortunately, it plods a bit. Hope it will get better.
I’m reading George R.R. Martin’s ‘A Dance with Dragons’. So far I’m liking it a lot. It’s very readable with quite a lot of action. Provisional grade: 4/5.
Damn! There’s a whole genre out there of nonfiction about folks who croaked in National Parks! Have any been missed? This is a great writing opportunity.
I finished The Amateur Cracksman, the first collection of stories featuring Raffles the gentleman burglar. They were nice, light reading that went down pretty easy.
I finished The Drop by Michael Connelly… and after books like Echo Park this was a hell of a letdown.
I think Connelly peaked with the Reversal and things are just running downhill. Large sections of the book were so poorly written that I checked the dust jacket to make certain it didn’t list a ghost writer.(I’m still not convinced it wasn’t written by one) He violated the rules of “show, don’t tell” with ruthless regularity, explaining things that really needed no explanation if you were over the age of 12 and had read more than one police procedural. The characters, including Bosch, are flat and lifeless, which is a damn shame as David Chu in 9 Dragons was a vibrant, bright character; here he is a sulky, petulant wisp of a person. The only character with any life in the book is Politics and he is an utter attention whore, forever pushing himself into center stage.
Aurora by Kim Stanley Robinson was always interesting but not his best. After a relatively straight forward beginning things start to change once the generation starship reaches it’s destination. It’s not a particularly good place to try to colonise, but it’s the best the system has to offer, so they go for it…
I don’t want to spoil one of the main twists, so I won’t say more.
There are essentially two main characters, the chief engineer’s daughter, who rises to prominence among the colonists, and the ship itself. At the beginning the engineer is instructing the ship’s main computer to compile a history of the journey. There have been problems earlier in the journey and much has been forgotten. This allows much of the book to be related by the ship in an ever-improving use and understanding of language and story-telling. Some of the earlier sections seem a bit flat, but later, as the ship improves it’s techniques, the prose is livelier.
Some great scenes and ideas and definitely not what I expected but, as I said, not up to some of his earlier work. Maybe a re-read would make me appreciate it more. It’s certainly better than the other big sf novel by a favourite author I’ve read recently, Seveneves by Stephenson.
I was aiming to read a new collection from M. John Harrison but I see that it’s been put back to next April so I’m not sure what to read next…