found_drama

“What took you so long to pick it up?”

I did not believe the hype.

Before The Windup Girl, my exposure to Bacigalupi’s work was through two short stories:

1. “The People of Sand and Slag”—which seemed to pop-up everywhere^[1] for a while; and then
2. “Yellow Card Man”—which was in the same milieu as this novel and which I liked but which I didn’t really “get” because I was expecting something more along the lines of “The People of Sand and Slag”.

This is not to say that I did not enjoy Bacigalupi’s work at least on some level—they were both good stories^[2] but neither of them was enough to send me out on a mission looking to read more of his work. Nevertheless, I recognized the name^[3] and had this strong flicker of recognition every time yet another review appeared in my RSS reader. The Windup Girl is amazing and a shoe-in for at least one of 2009′s big awards and so forth. But I kept thinking about “The People of Sand and Slag”.

Turns out that Bacigalupi has the same problem that I have^[4].

His ideas are big. Too big for some crummy 5,000 word short story or some 8,500 word novelette. Those ideas are big and they are important and they need room to breathe. Those ideas need a 350+ page apparatus to fully get themselves across. But these big ideas all seem so small and slow at first, and for the first 50-100 pages you find yourself thinking So what? So this is an interesting and immersive milieu but where’s the action? Why is everyone ready to have this book’s babies? But then it hits you hard and drags you through 250 more stunning pages^[5].

I loved this book the way that I loved Ian McDonald’s River of Gods^[6]. There is something very special about the rich tapestry that these guys have created by putting these futuristic settings against the lush and visceral backdrops of these oriental locales with all their poverty and banalia. But whereas McDonald did it with AIs in India, Bacigalupi is doing it with genetically modified human not-quite-clones in Thailand.

But what makes this one so special is that everyone is under indictment and nothing is sacrosanct. None of the stories end the way you would want them to, but you cannot think of any other way that they could end. This is one that will haunt you, and makes a great companion read for Oryx and Crake.

1. Previously reviewed here. [↩]
2. ”Yellow Card Man” was a particularly fine gem, though my re-read-to-really-get-it is still pending. [↩]
3. Perhaps it helps that “Bacigalupi” is an epic handle. [↩]
4. Alternatively: “Turns out that Bacigalupi has the same problem that I would like to think that I have.” [↩]
5. But now I’m just gushing? [↩]
6. Previously reviewed here. [↩]

Fogus and I^[1] decided that July would be a great month to co-re-read House of Leaves. So that’s what we’re doing.

As you can see, my copy has made the rounds a few times.

But I’m equipped:

• one (1) well-worn copy of the novel;
• one (1) notepad for notes/quotes/@todo items;
• one (1) Pilot Precise Grip extra-fine point pen (in blue, of course); and
• two (2) bookmarks (one for the novel and one for the notes).

Also: participate! (or just follow along.)

1. Mostly Fogus. [↩]

If you happen to be unfamiliar with Haruki Murakami: he writes these delightfully weird, surrealist^[1] novels that are somehow simultaneously indecisive yet utterly certain of their subjects. Declaratively ambiguous dreamscapes that are half-hatched out of unimaginable futures.

So with that in mind: Kafka on the Shore is like a bizarrely Oedipal Catcher in the Rye—except that instead of following an introspective pathetic fuck-up^[2], it follows an introspective tormented wretch^[3]. And instead of being surrounded by phonies, he’s surrounded by a cast of protean, vaguely misanthropic that are all camped out on the various fringes of…. Well, without giving it away, all I can really say is that they’re on the fringes.

The novel spends a lot of time at those fringes, side-stepping the easy and burrowing pretty deeply into itself. This is definitely Murakami’s take on the classic (classically Western?) coming-of-age novel. Strongly recommended: ★★★★★

1. I can’t bring myself to use the phrase “magical realism”. [↩]
2. That would be Holden Caulfield. [↩]
3. That would be Kafka Tamura. [↩]

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress.

Excellent. Almost perfect. To all of those that say that this is Heinlein’s best work: I agree, and would go so far as to say “by far”.

A few thoughts (in no particular order^[1]):

(1) Chapter twenty-six is probably one of the best single chapters in science fiction literature. Maybe all literature.

(2) Heinlein prevents this from being a five-star work with (surprise!) how he portrays women. Hamstrung, they are, when they ought to be in power. He drops hints that the Lunar society has the most empowered women in history, and yet the families are not matriarchal; and though the Revolution seems to start with Wyoh, she quickly fades into the background (politically); and then every other little detail (one of the kickers for me being during the climactic War Cabinet meeting when our narrator refers to one of the women as “a good little fem that knows when to stay quiet”^[2]). Sigh.

(3) Mike. Poor Mike. So tragic.

(4) “Throw rocks at them.” So great.

(5) Why it gets held up as “a masterpiece of libertarian revolution” however escapes me. Are the “Loonies” libertarians? I suppose so, but if they are it is by accident, by happenstance, and not by design. Manuel’s narrative (both of his own opinions and as he represents Prof) would have us believe that since there is no tradition in the penal colony-cum-nation state of a taxation-for-services model, that it is foreign to them and thus by definition poisonous. But this is a convenient party-line refutation of Lunar Authority claims to ownership/control of the satellite. “We don’t owe you anything because you’ve never actually given us anything.” It’s a Boston Tea Party in extremis^[3], and perhaps even a bit self-undermining as it’s revealed that (a) Prof later on flat-out admits that they’re stealing^[4], and (b) the penultimate government that the Loonies settle on winds up sounding pretty traditional anyway^[5]. What does this mean for the tonal qualities of the novel…? It means that it doesn’t really wind up looking like much of a celebration of libertarianism.

Regardless: thoroughly enjoyed.

★★★★☆ on the Goodreads.com scale.

1. And with “fair warning” of spoiler alerts. [↩]
2. Or something like that. [↩]
3. And perhaps, now that I think of it, “seasonally appropriate” with the current political climate? [↩]
4. Which is to say—as I understand libertarian philosophies, out-right theft is a “crime” even in that political framework. [↩]
5. In other words: I believe that they levy some taxes at the end there. [↩]

Before we begin in earnest, a quote:

If much in the world were mystery the limits of that world were not, for it was without measure or bound and there were contained within it creatures more horrible yet and men of other colors and beings which no man has looked upon and yet not alien none of it more than were their own hearts alien in them, whatever wilderness contained there and whatever beasts.

Of Cormac McCarthy’s corpus, a friend once said: “In those novels, the best thing that can happen is that the worst thing doesn’t happen.”

Of Blood Meridian in particular, I’d be willing to say: “The best thing that can happen is that the worst thing eventually halts.”

This novel is a surreal peregrination into the muddy moralities of war—a novel so sociopathic and alienating and fraught with existential anxiety that solipsism becomes akin to salvation.

It’s a disturbing and troubling and bleak read, but worthy of being read, and perhaps even necessary.

Rob’s favorite books »

One year, twenty-six books, 10,902 pages. Not including however many dozens of articles and short stories read in Wired, The New Yorker, and online…

In many ways, I’ve started to come to believe that you can’t go wrong with a John Joseph Adams’ collection. Wastelands was incredible, The Living Dead was great, and Federations…? Also very very good.

The “dust jacket description” of this anthology pretty much sums it up… It collects a few different modern takes on the classic science fiction trope: What does it take; what does it mean for a civilization to be interstellar and/or pan-galactic?

My take of Federations, it gets a composite rating of 3.9130 (individual stories below)

Read the rest of this entry »

SCENE: Samuel R. Delany, sitting at his writing desk, surrounded by books (some on shelves, but most piled on the floor), circa 1973; a man walks into the room.

- Delany and the man stare at each other. They both stroke their beards.

Delany: “Who are you?”

The Man: “Don’t you know? They sent me.”

D: “Who? Who sent you?”

TM: “It doesn’t matter. I’m here to tell you that it’s OK. They told me to tell you that we’re not really competing. Not really.”

D: “And who are you…?”

TM: “I told you, didn’t I? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Nice place. With the books and all that.”

Read the rest of this entry »

A number of reviews that got posted to Goodreads.com earlier this year but never made it to here:

1. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil;
2. Ficciones;
3. Stranger in a Strange Land;
4. In Persuasion Nation;
5. Plays Well With Others;
6. An Obedient Father; and
7. Theodore Rex

We regret this error.

…or, what really happened in the woods that winter:

In a cave in the woods
in his deep, dark lair
through the long, cold winter
sleeps a great brown bear.

Cuddled in a heap
with his eyes shut tight
he sleeps through the day
he sleeps through the night.

The cold winds howl
and the night sounds growl

but the bear snores on.

A filthy little mouse
pitter-pat, tip-toe
creep-crawls in the cave
from the fluff cold snow.

Mouse squeaks
“Too damp.”
“Too dank.”
“Too dark.”

So he lights wee twigs
with a small hot spark.

The coals pip-pop
and the wind doesn’t stop

but the bear snores on.

Two glowing eyes
sneak-peek in the den
mouse cries “Who’s there?”
and a wolf eviscerates him.

“Ho Mouse!” says wolf
“Long time, no eat!”
So he gobbles him down
as a tasty treat.

Mouse gasps deathly rasps
Wolf slurps bloody burps

but the bear snores on.

A badger scuttles by
sniff-snuffs at the air
“I smell yummy-yums,
perhaps we can share?”

“I’ve brought honey nuts,”
badger says with a grin.
“Let’s divvy them up,
cozy down, and drink gin.”

So they nibble and they munch
with a chew chomp crunch

but the bear snores on.

A gopher and a mole
tunnel up through the floor
then a wren and a raven
flutter in through the door.

Mole mutters
“What a night!”
“What a storm!”
Twitters wren.

And everyboy clutters
in the great bear’s den.

They chat about cripples
they tweet and the tipple

but the bear snores on.

In a cave in the woods
a slumbering bear
sleeps through the party
in his very own lair.

Wolf stokes the fire
over seasoned mouse stew
when a small pepper fleck
makes the bear

RAAAAAAAAAAA-CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

He blows and he sneezes
and the whole crowd freezes.

And the bear wakes up!

And the bear devours the other animals.

THE END

Apologies to Karma Wilson for this parody of her marvelous children’s story, Bear Snores On.