coffeeandink: (world domination)
So far I have obviously been terrible at posting more this year, but I do have some posts in progress and may even finish one someday. In the meantime, a bunch of older books I like have come out as ebooks, so I thought I'd recommend them:


  • Sarah Smith, Perdita Halley and Alexander von Reisden mysteries
    Series of historical mysteries, set in the turn of the (twentieth) century in Boston and Paris, featuring a blind pianist and a scientist with a troubled past. Elegant prose, sophisticated characterization, and very good on the lingering effects of childhood trauma -- when I do read mysteries, I tend to read for character, prose, and mood more than puzzle, and these are no exception. The Vanished Child is about a man who bears a great resemblance to a child who vanished many years ago, and how and why he impersonates the lost child. The Knowledge of Water shifts location to Paris and involves a writer very clearly based on Colette, plus a plot to steal the Mona Lisa; A Citizen of the Country focuses on early attempts at film-making in France.

    You might want to try these if you like Barbara Hambly's Benjamin January mysteries.

  • Kristine Smith, Jani Killian series
    Sf. As the series starts, Jani Killian has been on the run for over a decade. She was once considered one of humanity's brightest, a student at the alien idomeni institute in an attempt at alliance-building, which went drastically wrong in a clash between conservative and radical idomeni idealogues, for which Jani is partially blames. Smith's world-building is different from the generic default in interesting ways: neither her humanity nor her idomeni are unified fronts; Jani is from a Colony world whose antecedents seem to be Acadian and Hindu; one of the most important professions is "protocol officer," or paper-pusher, the authentication of information being one of the keys to interstellar commerce.

  • Cherry Wilder, The Rulers of Hylor series
    Unusually fine fantasy trilogy (published as YA in hardcover and adult in paperback) from the mid-eighties; makes a lot of standard fantasy tropes seem fresh by the excellence of the prose and the maturity of the characterization. Each book focuses on one of a group of first cousins, the children of three beautiful sisters called the "Swans of Lien," and the dynastic struggles in the continent of Hylor. Nicely variable in style as well: book one is third-person limited past, book two is first-person limited retrospective past, book three is omniscient present tense (slipping into past). Each book can be read independently of the others, although they work better together. There is an overall arc (regarding the sorceror who manipulates the lives of all three cousins) that only becomes clear in Book Three; earlier than that, you get the benefit of the varied points of views, in which a mysterious and ominous figure in one book is a dearly beloved friend in another, or a brilliant military victory becomes a tragic defeat.

    Wilder died some time ago; the books are being published by the Frenkel Literary Agency, so ... there's that. :(


And one new one for lagniappe:

Letters to Tiptree (ed. Alisa Krasnostein and Alexandra Pierce) is a collection of letters by contemporary sf writers to James Tiptree, Jr. (Alice Sheldon), plus excerpts of Tiptree's correspondence with Ursula K. Le Guin and Joanna Russ; it's on sale for $.99/£.99 pretty much everywhere, including the publishers direct. I'm partway through, absorbed, interested, argumentative, and inclined to put it on my Hugo nomination ballot for Best Related Work.
coffeeandink: (Default)
What are you reading now?
Virginia Woolf's second novel, Night and Day.  Formally, it's very traditional--much more traditional than her later work, unsurprisingly, but also much more traditional than her first novel, The Voyage Out. The Victorian novel, or even the Edwardian novel with a touch of comedy of manners? romantic comedy?, is so the wrong model for her! E.M. Forster did okay with it in Howards End, but Woolf can do so much better and so much more.  It is like watching someone plodding on the ground when they're meant to fly.  If I hadn't read any other Woolf, I might think it was forgettable with good bits, but all the interesting bits drown in my overall sense of wrongness.  

My sense of wrongness may be exacerbated because of some surface similarities to the Jonathan Crowe/Teresa Hawkins romance in For Love Alone; I keep snapping at all the selfishnesses and sexisms displayed by the two male leads.  Woolf judges them, but doesn't damn them nearly as much as Stead does Crowe, or maybe for Woolf and Stead I mean me.  Rodney and Denham are sexist and unaware of male privilege (and in Rodney's case, oblivious to his class privilege), but they don't hate women the way Crowe does.  It is more tolerable, though not so much when I think about having to marry someone like them.

Obviously, I need to put together my notes on For Love Alone.

What did you just finish reading?
I finished Whipping Girl.  Now I want to rewatch the Sarah Connor Chronicles episode with the trans woman guest star; it's not unproblematic, but IIRC it actually does some things that are very different from the typical media representations Serano analyzes.

In sequential art: Read Moto Hagio's Heart of Thomas, on which more later.

In short fiction:
  • Sarah Smith, Fearful: The narrator is not quite Colette and this is not quite a ghost story.  I had forgotten how much I liked Smith's work when she is not trying to persuade me to buy Shakespeare conspiracy theories.
  • Sofia Samatar, Honey Bear: I'm not sure if it makes me uneasy because it doesn't quite work or because it works too well. Thinking about extinction events is not, after all, comfortable, and a lot of the time neither is thinking about whether love is "worthwhile," or even real.  It's another literary-as-a-genre type story structure rather than a plot-heavy structure. Like "Selkie Stories Are For Losers," it pulls together into an understanding of what's passed at the end; unlike "Selkie Stories," there's a revelation, or an understanding, for the narrator as well as the reader, although not the same one.  Maybe it works less well for me because it goes ahead in such a straightforward way until then?  I like "Selkie Stories"'s sense of circling, or of laying down story strand by strand and only in the final sentence do you understand the criss-cross of the strands has formed a net and it's caught you.  (If it weren't a selkie story, would I think of fishing nets?) I guess you can tell which story is already on my best of the year list and which is not.  Or maybe I am more interested in stories about escaping families than building them?  The parents in my circle might find more in "Honey Bear" than I do.
  • Aliette de Bodard, Heaven Under Earth:  A family is disrupted when the husband/head of household brings home a woman, rather than a surgically/hormonally altered man, as his most junior spouse.  Interesting background and interesting tension among resisting social strictures, assisting in resistance to them, and accommodating them.  Painful to read about forcible gender expression reassignment the same week I was reading Whipping Girl. Uses a trope that appears glancingly in The Female Man (the scarcity of women means lower-status men are forcibly reconstructed physically and socially to substitute for women), but without  the same sense it's reinforcing anti-transsexual slurs.  Dissatisfying in that gender is both central to the story and weirdly absent--I feel like we are supposed to read the protagonist as feeling too much about his situation to dare allow himself to feel, but there is not quite enough there, possibly because the prose is so bland.
     
What do you expect to read next?
Ugh, I hate this question.  How do I know what I'll feel like reading tomorrow?  I also keep wavering between wanting to clear out the backlog of books I purchased in 2012 and wanting to clear out the backlog of books I purchased way before 2012 and wanting to read things I can borrow from the library which do not have the gloom of obligation blighting them.  

Maybe I should just drop the question? Consider it replaced by short fiction and graphic novel discussions?  Or maybe if I keep mentioning things, I will actually get around to reading them this year.

Right now, the shortlist contains:
  • A bunch of "The state of sf" articles and blog posts I saved and ignored during the past year because I was preoccupied with other things and I suspected they would make me cranky
  • Diana Wynne Jones' Reflections  
  • More Christina Stead  
  • Sayuri Ueda's The Cage of Zeus
  • Melissa Scott's The Kindly Ones
  • Theodora Goss' The Thorn and the Blossom  
  • Andrea Hairston's Redwood and Wildfire
The shortlist in sequential art:
  • Amruta Patil's Adi Parva: The Churning of the Ocean (put aside to read Heart of Thomas)
  • Uncollected Icon comics
  • Uncollected Hardware comics
  • Collected Static Shock comics
  • Kelly Sue deConnick's Ghost issues
  • Saga Volume 1 (I read the first three issues and decided to wait for the trade)
  • Sailor Twain; or, The Mermaid in the Hudson
  • Mind the Gap Volume 1
  • Sakuran
  • Those three volumes I'm behind on Natsume's Book of Friends
  • Those three volumes I'm behind on Kimi ni Todoke
  • The undoubtedly random, glorious, and grotesque final two volumes of Grand Guignol Orchestra
     

coffeeandink: (coffee & ink (bw))
English grad student Joe Roper discovers evidence that the works of Shakespeare may have been written by the Earl of Oxford, not even the most popular usual alternate candidate (that would be Bacon, although I have a cracked fondness for the Queen Elizabeth theory). He's dismayed by this, partly because (a) alternate Shakespeare theorists tend to be total loons; (b) Joe, from a working class Vermont background, uncomfortable with the class shifts required for his proposed career, has a fierce attachment to the biography of the middle class kid from Stratford who made good; (c) Joe's mentors are a married pair of famous Shakespeare biographers, about to publish a long-awaited follow-up to the book that won them reknown.

I would have liked this better if I didn't find the Shakespeare authorship controversy absurd. To do Smith credit, the book doesn't require buying into the theories, although it does offer them more respect than I feel they deserve. (The book site contains an exhaustive bibliography on the historical and critical sources Smith used.) Her prose is, as usual, exquisite, although Joe's voice is very different from Alexander Reisden's (protagonist of The Vanished Child and sequels); her characterization is compelling. This is, ultimately, a reflection on biography and biographers, on how writers see their subjects as themselves. It does make me think that the authorship controversy is just one example of a general difficulty many people have believing in fiction: many people--many biographers of writers--seem to believe that the most convincing, most compelling, scenes must be taken from life; that there must be a one-to-one correspondence of character to someone in the writer's past; that fiction simply imposes a narrative on lived experience rather than entirely transforming it.

Writers' biographies fascinate me but seldom satisfy me.
coffeeandink: (Default)
(Because [livejournal.com profile] katiedack asked.)


  1. My godmother lived in a handsome house in the clean and ancient town of Bretton.—Charlotte Bronte, Villette

  2. Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted and the shop windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the big thoroughfares.—Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess

  3. On a certain day in June, 19--, a young man was making his way on foot northward from the great City to a town or place called Edgewood, that he had been told of but never visited.—John Crowley, Little, Big

  4. The year Janet started at Blackstock College, the Office of Residential Life had spent the summer removing from all the dormitories the old wooden bookcases that, once filled with books, fell over unless wedged.—Pamela Dean, Tam Lin

  5. There was a green bough hanging on the door.—Greer Ilene Gilman, Moonwise

  6. In the land of Ingary, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really do exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three.—Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle

  7. The Baron Alexander von Reisden went mad after his young wife died, and in five years he had not got himself sane.—Sarah Smith, The Vanished Child

  8. The idiot lived in a black and gray world, punctuated by the white lightning of hunger and the flickering of fear.—Theodore Sturgeon, More Than Human

  9. Sometimes in the long summer's evenings, which are so marked a part of our youth, Harriet and Vesey played hide-and-seek with the younger children, running across the tufted meadows, their shoes yellow with the pollen of buttercups.—Elizabeth Taylor, A Game of Hide and Seek

  10. He--for there could be no doubt of his sex, though the fashion of the time did something to disguise it--was in the act of slicing at the head of a Moor which hung from the rafters.—Virginia Woolf, Orlando



First paragraphs are better than first sentences, I think, except for the trouble of typing them up.
coffeeandink: (world domination)
Two people recently mentioned having bought books I recommended, so I am filled with megolomanical fantasies of persuading the entire world, or at least the portion of it that reads this post, to read Really Good Books (TM).

So, here are some of my favorite mysteries:

First, everyone who liked Daughter of Time should read (a) Josephine Tey's other books, of which my favorite (after DoT) is Brat Farrar; and (b) Elizabeth Peter's Jacqueline Kirby mysteries, particularly The Murders of Richard III, which riffs off DoT nicely. My favorite in the series, though, is Die for Love, where Jacqueline goes to a romance writers convention and mystery and amusements ensue.

Trying to remain remotely on the day's topic, humor, I'll also recommend Sarah Caudwell's Hilary Tamar mysteries, which are the funniest things ever.

'It was rather delicious fudge, and I was quite hungry. You will be interested to hear, Hilary, that it had a most remarkable effect--even on Selena after a very modest quantity. She cast off all conventional restraints and devoted herself without shame to the pleasure of the moment.'

I asked for the particulars of this uncharacteristic conduct.

'She took from her handbag a paperback edition of Pride and Prejudice and sat on the sofa reading it, declining all offers of conversation. I have never known you, Selena, so indifferent to the demands of social obligation. I, on the other hand, talked a good deal, though not as I recall with great lucidity; I was trying, for some reason which now escapes me, to explain to Rowena the effect of Section 478 of the Taxes Act; but I kept forgetting halfway through my sentences how they were meant to end, so I fear that I may have given her an imperfect understanding of these provisions.'


I'm very fond of historical mysteries, and one of the best I've ever read is Sarah Smith's The Vanished Child. It's about a man who bears a great resemblance to a child who vanished many years ago, in turn of the century Boston, and how and why he impersonates the lost child. The writing is elegant and the developments are heartbreaking. The sequels don't have quite the perfection of form as the first one but they are still very, very good: The Knowledge of Water shifts location to Paris and involves a writer very clearly based on Colette, plus a plot to steal the Mona Lisa; A Citizen of the Country focuses on early attempts at film-making in France.

Another very good series is Kate Ross' set of mysteries about Julian Kestrel, a Regency dandy, which is also as elegant as the setting demands.

I'm not sure whether Dorothy Sayers' Gaudy Night is any good as a mystery; I love it for the depiction of a community of women scholars and the evident devotion to learning and literature.

Obscure but should be better known: Molly Brown's Invitation to a Funeral, a mystery whose detective Aphra Behn, a Restoration playwright and spy widely believed to be the first woman writer to have earned her living by her pen. Brown also has a terrific Web site on Restoration London.

Favorite popcorn reading: J.D. Robb's set of futuristic mysteries about Eve Dallas, a tough-as-nails homicide detective in late 21st century New York; Amanda Cross's series about Kate Fansler, an English professor who usually investigates mysteries with a literary and/or feminist slant; and Peter Dickinson's King and Joker and Skeleton-in-Waiting, set in a slightly alternate England so he can use the royal family as subjects and protagonists. They're bright and witty and unexpectedly insightful about gender, sexuality, and perception.

On the edge: Sean Stewart's Passion Play is an sf novel set in a fundamentalist future America, with a terrific hard-boiled detective narration and even better characterization; and Sarah Waters' Affinity is a literary/historical novel about a Victorian philanthropist who visits a women's prison and becomes drawn into a relationship with a spiritualist imprisoned for murder. The mystery aspects are very good, but they may not be central enough to the book to suit people looking for a straightforward mystery.
coffeeandink: (Default)
The Times has already released its list of the best books of 2001, a practice which has always puzzled me. There are 31 more days left, and in more productive years I could fit in another 20-30 books; who knows what wonders there might be therein? (This year, I'll be lucky to fit in another 10. But we'll see.) Rushing the list may make sense for businesses, since they hope to encourage sales, but why should individuals follow suit?

Clinging to my last 31 days, I've decided to put together a list of my favorite books of 2000, since I never did that anyway. Because I get to make the rules, these will be books I first read in 2000, regardless of when they were first published.

So far the major effect of the twenty-first century on my reading has been to reduce it. Out of a mere 79 books, therefore:

  1. Francesca Lia Block, The Rose and the Beast (2000)

    Block's short stories don't tend to be as successful as her novels: they're often too sketchy or wispy or rushed. The fairy tales at the heart of the retellings give her a solid enough structure that she can write her prose poems around them without needing to put in plots she hardly seems to care about. Women's stories, lost girls, ice and glass and blood and joy and death: this time around it all just works.

  2. Sylvia Brownrigg, The Metaphysical Touch (1998)

    Not many people have quite figured out how to write fiction involving the Internet yet: it shows up as a stalker's dreamland or a goldmine of information pretty often, but very few people have managed to write about the real if intangible connections formed, or to understand how voices modulate in newsgroups, in e-mail, in person. Brownrigg gets it right.

    Her collection Ten Women Who Shook the World is mostly elegantly written fluff, but I do recommend "The Bird Chick."

  3. Alice A. Carter, The Red Rose Girls (2000)

    In the early twentieth century, three women artists and another female friend rented a house together on the outskirts of Philadelphia, where they lived together for many years until one of them decided to marry. It seems very likely that the women had split off into two pairs of lovers, but it's difficult to be sure. I am most attracted by the idea of their humming industry and the crotchety utopianism of women gathering together to create art.

    When their paintings and photographs are bad they look like washed-out imitations of Pre-Raphaelitism, but when they're good, they're full of energy and peace. Some of them look vaguely familiar, illustrations for children's books that are still being re-printed.

  4. Jennifer Crusie, Welcome to Temptation (2000)

    Jennifer Crusie just cheers me up. She's feminist and she's fast and she's funny and she writes about people in the midst of changing their lives. I prefer her category romances because they're more focused; I think she's sometimes not sure what to do with the extra length she's allowed. But this is probably the best of her mainstream books so far.

  5. Mary Gentle, The Book of Ash (A Secret History, Carthage Ascendant, The Wild Machines, Lost Burgundy) (1999-2000)

    Published in four volumes in the US, as one huge book in the UK. Ash appears at first to be a scholarly translation of a series of manuscripts about a legendary female mercenary in medieval Europe. And then the history of the world changes. Gritty, thrilling, unexpectedly moving.

    Okay. Too much detail on arms and armor. But you'd be surprised how little of that is too much for me.

  6. M. John Harrison, Travel Arrangements (2000)

    Elegiac short stories, every word brittle as glass. Harrison's bugbear definition of fantasy and daydream as immoral escapism and the overdetermined bleakness of his stories often drive me away, but I come back for the beauty of the language and the passion behind it.

    I've complained often enough about fanfic that I'd like better as original fiction: "Science & the Arts" is the rare story that's the reverse. The narrator's baffled incomprehension of his ex might be more moving if the reader were left with any idea of what the woman was actually like. "Seven Guesses of the Heart" is the best of the lot: a wizard in Atlantis, mourning a lost daughter. For once, Harrison grasps fantasy as a powerful way to emphasize and illustrate emotion, and uses it without haranguing.

  7. Patricia McKillip, The Tower at Stony Wood (2000)

    This probably shouldn't be on here. The plot is predictable if you've read other McKillip, and McKillip's attempt to mimic a tapestry by the interweaving of multiple plot strands ends up making the book feel diffuse and difficult to parse. But it's Patricia McKillip, and I'm completely irrational on the subject of Patricia McKillip. I can't help it. I fall in love with her prose every time.

    And it's got this gorgeous jeweled Kinuko Craft cover and it's based on Loreena McKennitt's version of "The Lady of Shalott," and how am I supposed to resist that?

  8. Naomi Mitchison, To the Chapel Perilous (1955)

    This is a retelling of the Grail legend as viewed by some junior reporters sent to cover the event for their local newspapers. This should not work. It does. It's charming and then Camelot begins to fall and it darkens and it's still charming, all the way through. And there's quite a lot slipped in about the fragmentary nature of truth.

  9. Ian McDonald, Sacrifice of Fools (1996)

    I'm iffy about this one, too. It's a clever science fiction murder mystery set in the near future, about a group of (literally) alien refugees living in Northern Ireland. The aliens' biology and culture is very well worked out, and communicated mostly with brilliant telling details, rather than by clumsy infodump, and it's got some terrific bits about family and gender and sexuality, not to mention McDonald's usual scintillating prose. And if I hadn't read Gwyneth Jones' White Queen, from which it is all too clearly derived, I'd have been even more impressed.

    McDonald tends to riff off current sf, and if you're familiar with his sources, it can get uncomfortable. The genre is notoriously generous when it comes to its attitude towards tropes and setting and influences; but I'm not sure whether or not McDonald borrows too much.

  10. Kristine Smith, Rules of Conflict (2000)

    Sf adventure with densely worked out politics, aliens, and future science, and a desperate, determined protagonist. This does a lot of standard sf adventure things very, very well; its virtues are quiet ones, so that it may take a while to see just how good it is. Smith reminds me a lot of C.J. Cherryh; her prose isn't as idiosyncratic, but many readers will probably consider that just as well. Second in a trilogy.

  11. Sarah Smith, A Citizen of the Country (2000)

    Historical mystery set in the early film industry in France. The mystery is good, but doesn't interest me as much as the two protagonists delicately negotiating their marriage after the birth of their son, as complicated by the long-term psychological effects of the husband's being severely abused in childhood. Which makes it sound like a psychological textbook or a self-help manual, and it's anything but. Smith loves her characters and shows you every inch of them, noble or ignoble, and all in the most elegant prose. Stands alone, but it's the third in the series; the first two, The Vanished Child and The Knowledge of Water, are also excellent.

  12. Stacy Schiff, Vera (1999)

    I get the impression that Vera Nabokov did not want to be known. I would have hated her life. She appears to have been fiercely devoted to it, but who can tell?


Honorable mentions: C.J. Cherryh, Precursor; Diane Farr's Regencies; Helen Fielding, Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason; John M. Ford, The Last Hot Time; Diana Wynne Jones, Year of the Griffin; Sam Lipsyte, Venus Drive; the last of Anthony Price's Audley novels I hadn't read; Terry Pratchett, The Truth & The Fifth Elephant; Jo Walton, The King's Peace; Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth; Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling, Black Heart, Ivory Bones & A Wolf at the Door.

Dishonorable mentions: Amanda Cross, Honest Doubt; Barbara Hambly, Knight of the Demon Queen

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