between the rock and the cold, cold sea

Fifty-two books so far this year. I am impressed.

(And rather horrified, actually).

Guy Gavriel Kay, The Wandering Fire; also, The Darkest Road.

Books two and three, respectively, of 'The Fionavar Tapestry'. I love these books. They made me cry, and that's a rarity these days. If by some chance you haven't read them, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Outbound Flight.

Yeah, I confess, I read Star Wars. Mainly because Zahn was the first SF I ever read. This, the seventh book he's written in the Star Wars universe, is by no means the worst SW book I've ever read. It also isn't up to the high standard of his earlier Star Wars work, and falls short even of Survivor's Quest, the last (patchy by Zahn's usual standards) SW book he's written.

Outbound Flight recounts the story of the doomed expedition, 'Outbound Flight'. I can't help feeling that Zahn was constrained by the requirements of continuity from writing to the best of his - by no means inconsiderable - abilities. It's worth reading for the Thrawn parts, if it's worth reading at all, and also for the parts of the Jedi Lorana Jinzler - Zahn does his usual excellent job of characterisation, with the notable exceptions of Kenobi and Skywalker. (That duo is as leaden here as it's been in every other SW novel I've ever read - frankly I don't think anyone, with perhaps the exception of Matthew Stover, could make them sympathetic.)

I bought this in hardback (at import prices, no less), and really, it's not worth it.

Tamora Pierce, Circle of Magic: The Healing in the Vine.

YA fantasy. Likeable enough.

By tomorrow, I will have read Patrick Modiano's Chien de Printemps. Probably also the history book that has been in progress since January. Jon Courtenay Grimwood's Stamping Butterflies is also in progess, and my, it's weird.

After a bright, shiny morning, today has grown grey. The light through the clouds has a yellow tint. I can smell the rain: it will be wet tonight.

I hate grey. And there has been far far too much of it!

More books read to add to the 2006 total. That's forty-eight so far this year. (More than a book a day, but some days I read four or five, and some days none, so... I really will have to stop soon.)

Book-reading 2006 #5:

Charles Stross, Accelerando.

My head wasn't big enough to fit all of this book in at once. I needed to stop every ten pages or so to catch my breath, because there was just so much going on (also to cradle my inadequacy for a while, but we won't talk about that). The quote from The Guardian reads: 'Like being trapped in the middle of an exploding ideas factory without a helmet'. I can't put it better than that.

Guy Gavriel Kay, The Summer Tree.

Why did no-one ever tell me about this book before?! It was first published in 1985, for crying out loud, and I have to wait my whole life to find out about it?!

Possibly there are two more powerful books than this in print. Maybe three. There can't possibly be four. And one of those would be The Lord of the Rings. And even Tolkien didn't make me cry, not like this.

I am impressed beyond words. Beyond words. Tomorrow there will be trip! to the bookshop to fetch books two and three of the Fionavar Tapestry, The Wandering Fire and The Darkest Road.

Chris Moriarty, Spin State.

I have mixed feelings towards this book, possibly due to having read it shortly after finishing Accelerando. Spin State has AIs, FTL, thriller plot, espionage and coalmines. It's good reading, but compared with Accelerando? It's like Cadbury's chocolate vs Lindt. Tasty, but not the same.

(Okay, now I've made myself hungry.)

Kristine Smith, Code of Conduct.

Those looking for AIs and visions of a posthuman future are doomed to be disappointed with this book. Those looking for good story, good characterisation and interesting aliens, however, should find themselves satisfied. Jani Killian, former captain in the Commonwealth military forces, has been wanted by the authorities for treason and mutiny for the better part of two decades. Now the Interior Minister, Evan Van Reuter, wants her help to preserve his political career.

This is an exceedingly good book, and if it wasn't for the fact that Amazon.com is prohibitively expensive (and I, as ever, am broke and blessing the fact that some bookshops run loyalty schemes) I'd have already ordered its sequels. Just the antidote for the head-hurting idea-storm that is Accelerando.

Patricia Briggs, Moon Called.

I like Briggs' work. It's always good. In Moon Called, though, she's taken a departure from her previous fantasy: this book is set in a sideways-turned version of this world, complete with werewolves, vampires, and all other kinds of fey sorts.

Mercedes Thompson is a mechanic. Her next-door neighbour is a werewolf, and she's fixing a vampire's Volkswagon. But, of course, Thompson isn't exactly ordinary herself, and when a new werewolf shows up with trouble not too far behind, things get complicated.

Despite its obvious relationship to such antecedents as Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake books, it manages to be reasonably original and fresh. Still, the relationship is obvious (but, one must add, Ms Briggs has not included the OD of sex that Ms Hamilton seems to feel obliged to provide). I liked it, and I'll probably reread it at some point, too. And buy its sequel.

Tamora Pierce, Trickster's Queen.

YA fantasy, sequel to Trickster's Choice. Pleasant enough reading, but all the really interesting, hard choices were avoided or elided. Not a bad book, and excellent YA (beats that Potter thing hands down), but it could have been so much better.

And Amazon.com still hasn't shipped my copy of C E Murphy's Urban Shaman. Which, after reading The Cardinal Rule, I am really, really, really impatient to read.

This particular journal is going to have to go on hiatus, I see. I may as well make an involuntary state of affairs a voluntary one, and admit that from now till term break (five weeks. When did it get so short?) I'll only be posting here intermittently, if at all. College has terrified me to a fare-the-well: I have to start doing some real work, not just messing around. I've let myself get into bad habits: now it's time to see if I can kick them without ending up in St John'o'Gods.

Writing is also on hiatus. Also doing anything not explicitly college- or fitness-related, at least until the end of the month.

No more ( books )

In other news, I went over on my ankle jogging home from the train station. I've iced it and stapped it, and it hurts. I drank too much caffeine today and I'm buzzing and can't concentrate. And none of the college work I was supposed to do for this week has been done. Plus I've skipped six lectures/tutorials in the last two days.

No more.

Still nothing else to talk about. Except moaning, of course, which I've promised myself I shan't do.

Thus, on to the books.


Tamora Pierce, First Test, Page, Squire and Lady Knight.

A young adult quartet centred around a girl who is in training to be a knight, struggling to overcome the prejudice of the people who would prefer her to fail. Well done, but a bit too YA for my taste.

Patricia Briggs, Raven's Shadow, Raven's Strike, Dragon Bones, Dragon Blood, and Steal the Dragon.

I will say this: Briggs can write. Really. These are intelligent sword-and-sorcery-esque fantasies with real character development, solid plotting, and workable prose. I'd pick out Raven's Shadow and Dragon Blood out as the best of them, but they were all really good.

Karin Lowachee, Warchild and Burndive.

Thought-provoking SF, though at times the style set my teeth on edge. For example, the first section of Warchild is written in the second person while the rest of it (same character) is written in first, and while Burndive is written in third, it finishes in first. Also, the world is almost unremittingly brutal, and the characters are as far from nice people as you're likely to get. Good books, but not comfortable.

Patricia A. McKillip, Winter Rose.

I liked McKillip's The Changeling Sea, but though Winter Rose shares the same beautiful, lucid prose, I found myself unable to connect. This is probably because I read it between 0200 and 0430 one long, insomniac night, but still. It's fairy-tale-esque, very skillfully handled, beautiful, and completely not for me.

Tess Gerritsen, The Sinner.

I don't usually read crime, but despite that handicap, I found myself enjoying The Sinner. Though the plot and resolution have a few holes, medical examiner Dr Maura Isles and Detective Jane Rizzoli are sympathetic enough as characters that I read through to the end, which felt somewhat rushed. More of a character study than a crime novel, I felt, but that could be my unfamiliarity with the genre.

Walter Jon Williams, Dread Empire's Fall: Conventions of War.

The final book in the Dread Empire's Fall trilogy. Williams is good. This is space opera without much shiny tech, but the characters and the plot more than make up for the lack of any glitter. In space, Captain Lord Gareth Martinez takes part in the final battles against the Naxids, while on the captured capital planet Caroline Sula must recruit and train a guerrilla army to help take it back. Really, really good stuff. Has David Weber beaten hands-down, not only because we actually get a conclusion, but because Williams doesn't explain the tech-stuff at the expense of plot, character and tension. (Yes, I do prefer character development to tech-descriptions, however shiny. I'm weird like that.)

Cate Dermody, The Cardinal Rule.

Dermody is another name used by writer C.E. Murphy, author of Urban Shaman. I'm still waiting on Urban Shaman, but judging by The Cardinal Rule, when I get it I will really enjoy it. Cardinal is a spy thriller - sort of. Those looking for espionage a la Robert Ludlum are doomed to be disappointed, but I wasn't. It's the most fun I've had reading a non-SFF novel in I don't-know-how-long, a blend of Bond-style hecticness with something of the sensibility of TV's Alias (a program I'd like if they cut out the mystical-Renaissance shit) and a plot that crosses over into what looks like SF territory at times. It's helped by the fact that it takes itself seriously, but not too seriously, and the heroine, Alisha MacAleer, is just pure fun to read. Pure fun.

Fifteen books. Yikes. That's forty books already this year, thirty-nine of them fiction, plus the non-fic book-in-progress Lucrezia Borgia: Life, Love and Death in Renaissance Italy being slowly read. Also whatever I've read for college so far.

I should go to the gym tonight, but I'm not sure if I'll make it. It's 2010 here and I've been awake since 0500.

Yeah, yeah. I haven't anything more interesting to talk about, since I have at least four assignments to do this month and various other committments that, oh me, I volunteered for. Joy.

( Five Bookses )

Busybusybusybusy.

Note to self: Stop wandering around the 'Net and go start working.

Having nothing better to do (actually, I do have other things to do, and should be doing them), more books read this year:

( Five Bookses )

In case anyone's wondering, I read those all yesterday. Yes, I am insane. There are many other things I should have done, and should still be doing. However, books prevent me from going dangerously insane, and in this long grey month of January, that's very helpful.

I wrote a long post earlier about the books I've read so far this year, but LJ ate it.

( Books so far )