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Apparently I'm doing quarterly files this year. In any event, Toadstool Books in Milford, NH is getting a lot of my business these days. I've been reading a lot more sf/f lately, and a little less romance.
Tainted Trail and Bitter Waters, by Wen Spencer
Continuing the saga of Ukiah, his son Kit, and assorted Gets of Hex and Prime, also Ukiah's lesbian moms, their daughter, his employer/partner, his fiance the FBI agent. The plot twists continue, as does the extremely believable emotional development of the various characters. In book two, an incident suggests that Ukiah's spirituality is developing, and by book three, it's starting to look like it may not just be internal to him. Spencer's handling of some ambiguous phenomena is nicely understated. I can't recommend these books highly enough.
The Eyre Affair, and Lost in a Good Boook by Jasper Fforde
Dark as Day, by Charles Sheffield
It's been a while since I read Cold as Ice, and I probably should have reread it, but I sure remembered The Bat, even if I didn't remember the details of the mystery on Europa and its resolution. So I was happy to see him return, and Atropos is a great addition to the Puzzle Network. The emergent AI thing was fairly pedestrian, but the family politics and the ongoing problems with Commensals were amusing. Readable as a standalone (given how long it's been, it had to be). Not great, and the psychology informing the characters, major and minor, and their interrelationships, could best be described as naive, but in a pleasant way.
Cool, Hip and Sober, by Bill Manville
Responsible Drinking, by Frederick Rotgers, Marc F. Kern and Rudy Hoeltzel
I picked these two up at the bookstore after spending an hour or so surfing the self-help section with no clear goal in mind. When I bring home two books on a topic that I didn't realize I was researching, I try to pay attention, find out what I'm up to. I've never liked AA, as the first 25 years of my life thoroughly burned me out on the whole 19th/20th century conversion experience approach to fixing all your problems by telling you that human wisdom (mine in particular) is hopelessly inadequate to dealing with life, so you have to abandon your will to, god, God, some group, and or his/its/their representative.
I may not be wise, but I'm doing okay, and so do most people.
That said, I dated a guy for a number of years and was largely oblivious to what was apparently a significant pot habit (the optimistic view here would be it was in remission while we were together. Ha!). Then I played the field for a while, and then dated another guy for a number of years who drank a lot. I knew about the two six-packs in front of football on Sunday when we started dating, and I have no particular reason to believe things improved. This says some things about my judgment that I'm uncomfortable with. Then there are a number of other people in my circle of family and friends who clearly are having trouble managing their substance(s) of choice.
All this percolated in my head and I wound up buying these two books. Manville is a straightforward AA-is-the-only-way kinda guy, who figures people fall cleanly into the no-problems or progressive-disease-abstinence-the-only-solution camps. Stories he tells in his book about Bev make me think otherwise. Everything I've been reading about how effective, long-lasting change happens over the last ten years makes me think otherwise. But he's fun, and witty, and an engaging storyteller. It's just that the stories do tend to repeat themselves.
By contrast, MM uses all the stuff I've learned elsewhere about how effective, long-lasting change happens. You have to want to change, you establish a clear break with the old, apply lots of resources to starting a new habit, and then reintegrate the change into your comfortable life slowly, using any hiccups along the way as opportunities to learn what further changes need to be made. They offer a number of arguments in favor of moderation as a potential goal for people with drinking problems (not as the only goal -- they support people who want to abstain). One I had heard, and found compelling. You can treat more people this way, since a lot of people refuse to sign up for abstinence, at least immediately. A number of people who won't initially sign up for abstinence decide after trying moderation that abstinence is easier. The second I had not heard. A person who decides to abstain, and slips has no further skills/habits/resources to moderate that slip. Whereas one who consciously decided to moderate goes through a process of learning how to drink differently.
Manville is horribly skeptical. He states explicitly that people who don't have trouble with alcohol never feel they have to cut back. That's loopy logic, if not circular. With food, one can't abstain. One must learn moderation. At this point, most if not everyone in the U.S. that maintains a healthy body weight has to pay attention to it and occasionally cut back (the classic time of year before January/February). It's hard to do, but worth it. It does not strike me as unreasonable that a person who had the alcohol equivalent of an unhealthy or even obese BMI might need help getting back on track. I'm sure there are people in a bad enough state that only abstinence will work for them, and AA is the right choice. I'm fine with that. I just think there should be more options. I'm happy I learned about some of them. Particularly because if I feel a need to get all nosy and meddlesome and give some advice to a friend or relative, I can advise them in a direction I respect.
The Disappeared, by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
I really did not like this book, however, I've been unable to find external support for my initial theory about it, so I'm keeping my mouth shut publicly until I do.
Undead and Unwed, by MaryJanice Davidson
I think it's a spoof, even tho it's being marketed as a romance novel (which is more or less is). Vastly silly protagonist turns out to be a prophesied queen of the undead, antics ensue.
The Sexiest Dead Man Alive, by Jane Blackwood
Definitely not a spoof, moderately entertaining novel about a woman who wants to start her own restaurant quitting her job in favor of a personal chef gig that pays huge amounts of money, cooking for someone she is never supposed to see in person. Who is that mysterious man? The whole things gets sillier as it goes along, but some of the embedded commentary about dealing with papparazzi is good.
The Explosive Child, by Ross W. Greene
It was really a pleasure to read a remarkably sane book on a topic that tends to bring out the worst in even very good people. Greene suggests that sometimes kids do not do what they are supposed to, not because of ignorance, or lack of motivation, but because they don't know how -- and the how, often includes managing frustration and other negative emotions. Great ideas for how to deescalate, prioritize, model and otherwise teach techniques of emotional management.
The Caves of Buda, by Leah R. Cutter
I looked at it at the bookstore, and put it back on the shelf. Then a friend loaned it to me, along with a negative review. Here's my take: Authors seem to have this idea that readers want to feel like they are learning something while they are being entertained (if they were just wanting to be entertained, why wouldn't they be drinking beer instead, goes one theory. To which at least one answer is: too many calories). They include a curriculum of knowledge in their works -- in this case, OCD, Alzheimer's and other age-related dementia, mentally healthy ways of dealing with trauma/stress/disappointment (including ending relationships that are no longer working for one), and a Rick Steves tour of Hungary, including bits of language, history, culture, myth, etc.
Cutter is heavy-handed with a lot of this information, to make sure the lessons are driven home, altho she does a nice job of showing to go with the telling. It was nice to see some of the characters from Hungarian myth be used in a fantasy novel. To date, I mostly associate the stag and so forth with Kate Seredy novels; it was about time they get cycled back around.
Heart Seizure, by Bill Fitzhugh
Bizarre plotting, entertaining reading, not particularly compelling characters and humor used like a bludgeon. The president, who is trying to get re-elected, has a heart attack and needs a transplant. Next in line for the matching heart is the hero's mom. Antics ensue. The serial kidnapping (particularly after the Texas sheriff on vacation with his kids in the 'bago gets taken) is perhaps the most entertaining component of this novel, with the politico-shock-jock subplot running a close second. Others who read the book were unhappy with the apparently sell-out ending, but I personally think that if I had a sib eyeing me for a liver transplant, I wouldn't be all that sorry if evil third parties conked her and the tables were subsequently turned in my favor. Does Fitzhugh intend this as a statement for or against relativistic ethics? I don't know. But I don't much like any of the people who are opposed to relativistic ethics in this book, and I thought the ending was nice in the sense that none of the people I was rooting for got seriously damaged (and mom did get a good heart out of the deal).
But boy, if you think their are some basic principles and the bad will be punished for failing to adhere to them, this puppy will take you for a ride.
A Splendor of Letters, by Nicholas Basbanes
Sadly, the last in the extremely enjoyable trilogy about books, book people and book places. Among other things, Basbanes takes on ebooks. *snicker*. I distinctly recall a number of conversations in which people tried to convince me that ebooks were going to supplant printed books in the next few years (first of these been around 1990-1). Each time, I asked whether the person making the claim had actually read a complete book online (not only had I done so, more than once, by 1992, I'd proofed a book for the Gutenberg Project, so I had a sense of what the state of the art was). Usually, the answer was no. Apparently about ten years after my frustrating conversations with wackos convinced ebooks were the next big thing, a similar round of excitement hit publishing (I should have realized this, what with Amazon's Stephen King thing) and, not unexpectedly, petered out when people finally realized there were still a number of serious problems to be worked out.
Basbanes makes a great point when he asks the question about whether one of the idealists he interviewed used an electric razor.
For Us, the Living, by Robert Heinlein
Robert and Virginia destroyed their copies, but one turned up in the files of Stover's graduate student who'd forgotten he even had it. The estate decided to publish it, and am I ever glad they did. First off, anyone who thinks that Heinlein was a dirty old man will have their eyes opened here. He was a horny guy interested in open marriage and walking around naked long, long, long before he was old. Other than the extremes of anti-communism of his middle years, the Howard experiments in longevity, and the manifold universe/pantheistic solipsism theme(s), virtually every other theme from Heinlein fiction is present in proto-form in this walk-through utopia. It's completely obvious where he mined this unpublished work for most of the Future History stories.
Is it worth reading if you can't stand Heinlein already? Probably not. Is it worth reading if you don't have any idea who Heinlein is? Possibly, if you're interested in the kinds of things that were being written in the late '30s and NOT being published. If you're a major fan, you can't reasonably pass this one up. It may disappoint as a story, but it's a fascinating look into the man before the myth. Spider's intro is, well, weak. The afterword by Robert James is intriguing (even if he gets a bit from Number of the Beast slightly wrong. He describes the room for critics as inescapable, which as near as I can tell completely misses the point, er, intent of the klein bottle joke), in that James has been researching Leslyn Heinlein (and furthermore, dug up Heinlein's first marriage before Leslyn!). I hope James (or someone like him) produces a substantive biography in the future.
High Country, by Nevada Barr
The latest Pigeon entry, I made it through the whole thing (unlike Flashback). Anna's undercover as a waitress in Yosemite, trying to figure out why four comparative young 'uns disappeared a few weeks earlier. Inevitably, it's convoluted, and equally inevitably, Pigeon bites off more than she can handle and gets thoroughly pounded, yet survives, battered and bleeding, to tie up all loose ends (more or less). I got it from the library, and am happy I did so.
Revenge is Best Served Cold, by Tracie Howard and Danita Carter
I've had this one sitting around for a couple years or so. A brand-name-dropping consumption oriented novel about black New Yorkers with high powered/high status jobs (A & R exec, trader on Wall Street and Vice President), Revenge has some interesting subtext, including a straightforward, relatively positive treatment of oral sex (as long as the guy starts, and it's reciprocal) and mostly neutral depiction of gays (there's one notable Not a Good Guy, but several others who are neutral-to-good). A broad continuum of economic success is presented with the realization that while hard work doesn't guarantee reward, flakiness does guarantee failure (or at least unpredictable finances). The impact that continuum of economics can have when people at opposite poles are closely related (father/son, cousin/cousin, etc.) is also depicted bluntly. The prose style is readable, a workable combination of edgy urban hipness while valuing mainstream grammar.
It's a little weird, but I'm glad I read it, and I'd probably pick up another one by these authors if I run across it.
Paid Companion, by Amanda Quick
There's some great commentary here both on the Regency and slightly thereafter time period (contemporary and otherwise, fictional and otherwise, accurate and otherwise). Our intrepid heroine, Elenora Lodge, is 26 and has therefore more or less given up hope of marriage since her fiance ditched her after he found out she had been bilked out of her inheritance by her stepfather. Always the optimist, she figures she now has the chance to live a life independent of the whims and stupidity of men (and she has her grandmother's independent life as an actress as a model). In the backstory, she has a position as paid companion to a wealthy, eccentric noblewoman (unclear why this position ends), but when it comes time to find another, her luck runs dry as she interviews candidate employer after candidate employer: drunks, the dying and their heirs unlikely to pay her, men in the household likely to rape any dependent females -- the usual cliches and reality of the time. Meanwhile, our hero is looking for someone to pose as his fiance to dodge eager mothers who'd like to dangle their nubile young daughters in front of him while he investigates the murder of his beloved great-uncle. Antics ensue. I particularly like the way that Krentz/Quick through Lodge point out that most of the restrictions on women at the time were justified as a means to protect them from things that the restrictions neither protected them from, but in fact may have made them easier prey for. Dunno how Krentz found out about the guy who explored the sewers beneath London, but she always does her homework well.
Truth or Dare, by Jayne Ann Krentz
Sequel to Light in Shadows, the girls from the nuthouse are back in jeopardy, with the antiquarian bookseller who looks like a biker, the intentionally cliched PI and the former enforcer working with them to figure out who is after them (the potential list is quite long, after all) this time. Krentz has done a particularly nice job depicting the growing relationships between the Truaxes and Arcadia and Harry, and Singleton's englobement by Bonnie and her sons before there is even a single date. It would be easy to feel compelled to generate extraneous conflict, or to drag out the necessary points of confusion and conflict to add to the suspense, but Krentz has let the mystery provide the tension and her characters behave like decent human beings. Very pleasant read. I particularly liked the humor associated with the vitamins, flares, pepper spray, etc.
The Well of Lost Plots, by Jasper Fford
Three books into this series, I probably should write something. I'm a little surprised I haven't, actually. First off, great books, highly enjoyable on several levels. Strong female characters. Solid functional understanding of genre conventions and how they are modified and/or violated by practitioners, and the larger social world's understanding of the meaning of those conventions (Gully Foyle complaining about Zhark being a really good example in this entry). RHI Fford says these books are sf written where the McGuffin is that Reader Response Criticism is real. Maps well to the books.
The first book had very minimal travel within books. The second had a fair amount in one book in particular. The third takes place almost exclusively within books, or BookWorld, which is beginning to suggest a computational understanding of existence and reality. And, I might add, which is drawing more and more on Fford's background in screenwriting. Through book 2, it was possible to maintain the belief that Thursday's World was not prejudiced. However, in this book, it has become quite clear that Thursday's reality is actually outside BookWorld, not a book in its own right, which I consider to be a somewhat unfortunate choice. We're no longer in Heinlein's sheaf of universe, fiction of fictions, worlds without end. Bummer. It was complete with Boojums, but is not to be.
Those who dislike Dei ex machina will be sorely disappointed with this book. I, personally, laughed my ass off when Thursday opened her TravelBook and broke the panel only to be broken in case of emergency. I also like the way the mason builds the statue of the Great Panjandrum. One might suspect that would be the end of the series, but Fford claims we'll get more in March of 2005. I, for one, am looking forward to it.
I'll add that I think Fford explicitly foreshadowed that ending with the lighthouse encounter between Thursday and Aornis in Thursday's thoroughly befogged memory. After all, if the monster under the bed (or in the closet, or in the dark, or wherever that particular fear came from) can defeat your feared enemy('s presence by proxy in your mind), then there's no reason breaking the panel in the TravelBook can't be a 911 line direct to youknowwho.
Traveler, by Melanie Jackson
In general, I don't like fantasy (in this case "paranormal romance") in which there are races and one or more of them is defined as evil. I don't mind so much if there's antipathy at the species level. It's the perspective that matters. And Jackson is too far on the goblins-as-evil side. That plus the whole red fruit taking over the world made me really wonder about her, California and the treatment of migrant workers there. I haven't made up my mind yet, but the book wasn't otherwise good enough to overwhelm the creepy feeling.
Fantasy Lover
Night Pleasures
Dance with the Devil
Night Embrace
Kiss of the Night, by Sherrilyn Kenyon
Very prolific author, heavily inspired by Buffy, Xena and the like. Kenyon's world contains multiple races, with antipathy between them, but over the course of the series, the perspective shift suggests enough flexibility of worldview that even those the "good" guys hunt may comein shades of grey. In other words, all the things Jackson did not seem to be to me. The good news in both cases is that the women are largely capable, physically, mentally, emotionally, etc. The greek gods are depicted at their emotionally labile worst, which is nice, because it means that stupidity for plot purposes is believable in context. The sympathetic woman re-humanizes man who has been kicked 10 million too many times theme is a bit repetitive, but that's a minor complaint. I'll read as many of these as Kenyon feels like writing, and I intend to try to reread them to find out whether the background detail holds up over time. Remarkably good worldbuilding.
Enemy Way, by Aimee and David Thurlo
Way too much action for true plausibility (which is noted in at least one passage in the book), and an odd vocabulary for several of the characters (which may or may not accurately depict their demographic) are jarring notes in an otherwise interesting, readable novel set in Navajoland. Ella Clah, her brother Clifford, and their mother are all, to one degree or another, traditionalists and/or believers in the old ways of the Dineh, and in the novel's context, those beliefs are accurate. As a mid-series entry, I did not completely understand all the references to events in the characters shared past, but the story nevertheless worked well as a standalone. Despite the flaws, I liked the people. I particularly like (as in Hillerman) the consensus decision making consistently displayed in interactions. In real life, its passivity would bother me, but it's a beautiful world, and an effective one. Many well-drawn, well-differentiated female characters (Ella, her mother, Justine, the ME, the various women in town victimized by the teenage gang members, particularly their mothers, Jane Clah, Mrs. Willenk, even the murder victim depicted only through people's memories is well drawn).
A Hell of a Place to Lose a Cow, by Tim Brookes
Vastly amusing tale of a middle-aged Englishman who immigrated to the US after his first cross-country hitchhiking trek revisiting his youth on a second trip around the country. Way better than Bryson.
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Copyright Rebecca Allen, 2004.
Created: April 9, 2004 Modified: June 27, 2004