I haven’t read it yet, but I have it.
Like this post ! – and suspect that Captains Courageous has maybe pleased me a bit more than it did you, UtU. I read the novel quite a few decades ago, and loved it. (If I have things rightly, it’s Kipling’s only novel with a North American setting – one speculates that it may have been inspired by his living for a few years in New England in the 1890s.)
I’d feel inclined to re-read it; except that a bit of a blight is cast on it for me by an all-too-vivid memory of my, shortly after reading it, making a total fool of myself in connection with it; vis-a-vis a girl whom I fancied, but who turned out to have very little use for me. I still cringe with embarrassment over the episode, not far off fifty years after it occurred.
I finished The Face in the Abyss. It occurred to me that the title reminds me of another book I finally got around to reading a couple of years ago, The Face in the Frost by John Bellairs. That book, according Wikipedia and other sources, is a highly-regarded fantasy, praised by Ursula K. LeGuin, Lin Carter, John Clute, and others. The fault, then, is obviously in me, since I was left completely unmoved by it. We could have a Face-Off, as it were, with The Face in the Abyss vs. The Face in the Frost, and I wouldn’t care who won.
A. Merritt’s The Face in the Abyss resembles his earlier effort, The Moon Pool. in that the original story involves an expedition to a mysterious ancient city in a faraway place, where the modern explorers meet up with some ancient magic (later explained as super-science) that eventually destroys all but one of them. And in both cases he extended the original short story with a longer one in which the remaining explorer or one insp[ired by him encounters an entire Lost Civilization and gets involved in a revolt there. And there are Frog People. (Nobody lists these works as possibkle inspirations for H. P. Lovecraft’s The Shadow over Innsmouth, but I note that both of them were published in magazine form before he wrote that story in late 1931.)
For some reason, whenever anyone writes a book or films a story about Lost Civilizations it almost invariably looks and feels like a cheap serial. This is as true of Big Hollywood Epics like Merian C. Cooper’s She or Andrew Stanton’s John Carter as it is of serials like Undersea Kingdom or The Phantom Empire. Something about the whole genre seems sophomoric and unconvincing. and I say this as a FAN of the genre.
I started Randall Munroe’s What If…?, something I’ve wanted to do for a while. It’s a quick read, and I’m halfway through. What’s particularly appropriate now is the Chapter “The Common Cold”, in which someone suggested voluntary self-quarantining to eliminate the cold virus(es). “…interrupting all economic activity for a few weeks would cost many trillions of dollars. The shock to the system from the worldwide ‘pause’ could easily cause a global economic collapse.” Indeed.
The kicker is at the end, after he says a couple of weeks in isolation would clear up rhinoviruses from all the people with good immune systems. “Unfortunately, there’s one catch, and it’s enough to unravel the whole plan: We don’t all have healthy immune systems… This small group of immunocompromised people would serve as safe havens for rhinoviruses…In addition to probably causing the collapse of civilization, Sarah’s plan wouldn’t eradicate rhinoviruses.”
I’m also reading Marc Ferris’ Star-Spangled Banner – The Unlikely Story of America’s National Anthem, which seemed an appropriate choice for a Memorial Day where I’m pretty much stuck at home. It’s a surprisingly well-researched book. I bought the book some time ago as an “extra gift” in case I needed one for an occasion a while back, and it turned out that I didn’t need it.
I finished Circe by Madeline Miller. I really enjoyed it and plan to try Miller’s other books as well.
Is everything about the virus right now or is it just where our heads are at? Circe was about a woman in a sort of quarantine situation; now my next book is all about a pandemic. It’s Company of Liars by Karen Maitland, about a group of strangers on a journey during the black plague. It’s just okay, but I’m compelled to find out what happens in the end.
I just finished Where the Crawdads Sing. Lyrical and quite moving, but I do question If it’s realistic that a girl, abandoned at age seven and left to bring herself up, can truly be socialized enough to become an accomplished writer and naturalist. Still, it was well-written and engaging.
I read How Long til Black Future Month, by NK Jemisin, a couple of weeks ago.
The first story was among the most interesting and disconcerting. It’s a response to Le Guin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” and is called “The Ones Who Stay and Fight.” The clear insinuation is that it’s not enough simply to refuse to participate in injustice: you have to actively work against it. That said, the story also contains the idea that in a utopia, the “police” will humanely execute people who set up systems to receive dangerous dystopian ideas. I get being sick of all my bullshit, but that’s not an idea I can get down with.
Nevertheless, the story has stuck with me, and I appreciate that. And the rest of the stories are pretty great.
I also just finished Rogue Protocol, a Murderbot novella. Not having read the first one (the library delivered it to me by accident), I was a bit lost, and the writing just didn’t move me. It wasn’t bad, but it left me kind of cold. Maybe if I’d read the first book, I would’ve liked this second one better.
All right, here are my recent non-fiction picks:
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Hippie Food: How Back-to-the-Landers, Longhairs, and Revolutionaries Changed the Way We Eat by Jonathan Kauffman. It was good enough to finish, but not good enough for me to recommend it. It just felt a little insignificant, like a re-telling of history that’s not terribly relevant to my life, and when I read books on food I like to understand a little better how the subject matter relates to me. (I think the gold standard for books on food is Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma.)
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Then I read Strangers Assume My Girlfriend is My Nurse by Shane Burcaw. I discovered this author from his YouTube channel, Squirmy and Grubs (which I discovered through a YouTube channel highlighting people living with various conditions, Special Books for Special Kids). Burcaw lives with spinal muscular atrophy, and he works to spread awareness on his disability through humor. In addition to writing books and having a YouTube channel, he’s also a public speaker. Anyways, if this sounds at all interesting, I recommend first checking out his Squirmy and Grubs YouTube channel, and if that entertains you, I suggest you subscribe to his channel and read his books.
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Then I read Range: Why Generalists Triump in a Specialized World by David Epstein. I admire Epstein’s ability to take a thesis that is not at all intuitive, and support it so thoroughly that when you’re done reading, it seems like the only natural way to think. This book definitely made me re-think my attitude towards specialization – early specialization in particular. I do think the book felt a little haphazard in its organization – each chapter felt pretty stand-alone, and certain chapters were much more engaging and convincing than others.
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I’m currently reading A Brief History of Everyone Who Ever Lived: The Human Story Retold Through Our Genes by Adam Rutherford. I’m still in the first part of the book, which talks about how the human race formed, and there are things I like about the book and things I don’t like. The book is dense, which means I have to read it sparingly in many sittings. Some parts are fascinating, and other parts just go down in the weeds too much to hold my interest. I’m more interested in genetics than history, and this book is a little lighter on genetics and heavier on history than I was hoping it would be. But if the subject matter interests you, and you’d be interested in a very in-depth look at the history of the human race through the use of DNA, then you’d probably enjoy the book.
Finished Altered States of the Union, edited by Glenn Hauman. It’s an anthology of alternate history stories about how the United States of America could have been different. My favorite was “A Brief Explanation of How Budapest Became the Taco Capital of the World”, by David Gerrold.
Now I’m reading Saint Martin de Porres: Humble Healer, by Elizabeth DeDomenico.
Why is Budapest in a book about the alternate history of the United States?
Because In this surreal version of history, Los Angeles spreads out, physically, until it covers the entire world. Therefore, what used to be Budapest becomes Los Angeles by the end of the story.
Yeah, I had the same questions while reading it, it required a lot of suspension of disbelief.
Finished Saint Martin de Porres: Humble Healer, by Elizabeth DeDomenico, which was all right.
Now I’m reading The Long ARM of Gil Hamilton, by Larry Niven. It’s a collection of three SF mystery novelettes.
For the first time, I finished Dracula, on audiobook.
The readers were great: a man and a woman alternated reading according to the sex of the narrator at that point. Both of them leaned heavily into OUTRAGEOUS Texan, German, and Transylvanian accents as appropriate, as well as a scattering of various British accents I couldn’t always place (some Scottish, some Irish, some maybe Cornish or Welsh). I was really pleased with the reading.
I confess I didn’t know the book was written as letters and journals; but that format works well. I also knew only the bare bones of the story, so there were plenty of surprises. I wasn’t expecting it to be as lurid as it was.
The 19th century gender roles were…definitely 19th century. Yow.
All in all, it 100% deserves its reputation.
I’m about halfway through and, as with all of his earlier books, I’m really enjoying it. Capt. Aubrey, unfairly forced out of the Royal Navy, has just had a very successful voyage as a privateer captain, and he and his friend Dr. Maturin are about to leave for a diplomacy- and espionage-related trip to Sweden to see, among other people, the latter’s beautiful, somewhat scandalous estranged wife.
Glad to hear it. Do you think you’ll go on to others in the series? Hope so!
A few years ago some high school buddies and I stayed in his Vermont home, which is available for rentals. We each chose some Kipling to read one night, and my friend Gary chose Captains Courageous, long a favorite of his. He was very pleased to then learn that Kipling wrote the book in that very house: Naulakha (Rudyard Kipling House) - Wikipedia
I read that a year or so ago and had a similar reaction. Often interesting, but the author doesn’t have an especially lively writing style. By the end I was reading more out of a sense of obligation than for pleasure.
I will probably read more of the Old Man’s War series. My husband says we have the other books somewhere in the house, so I’ll keep an eye out for them.
Finished The Long ARM of Gil Hamilton, by Larry Niven, which was good.
Now I’m reading The Partly Cloudy Patriot, a collection of essays about the United States by Sarah Vowell.
Finished The Partly Cloudy Patriot, a collection of essays about the United States by Sarah Vowell. My favorite was “The Strenuous Life”, which was about Theodore Roosevelt.
Now I’m reading This Is How You Lose the Time War, by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone.
Excellent! Here are the titles: Old Man's War series - Wikipedia
And I’ll be glad to recommend other Scalzi stuff to you, as well, if you like.
Thanks. My husband’s a fan, so I’ve already read his Hayden Syndrome books, and his essay collections. I’ll be reading more of his work in the future.
New thread: Sheltering in place with a book and AC
Finished This Is How You Lose the Time War, by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone. It’s the best fiction I’ve read so far this year, and the second-best book overall.
Now I’m reading Here Comes Everybody: The Power of Organizing Without Organizations, by Clay Shirky. It’s about the beginnings of crowd-sourcing, including Wikipedia.