The Doomsday Book
by Connie Willis

For Kivrin, preparing for on-site study of one of the deadliest eras in humanity’s history was as simple as receiving inoculations against the diseases of the fourteenth century and inventing an alibi for a woman traveling alone. For her instructors in the twenty-first century, it meant painstaking calculations and careful monitoring of the rendezvous location where Kivrin would be retrieved.

But a crisis strangely linking past and future strands Kivrin in a bygone age as her fellows try desperately to rescue her. In a time of superstition and fear, Kivrin — barely of age herself — finds she has become an unlikely angel of hope during one of history’s darkest hours.

This is one of those books that I’ve meant to read for a long time (it was published in 1992) but never quite got around to before. I just recently listened to a podcast interview with Willis, though, so I thought I’d give it a try. As a Medieval Studies major myself, I can really sympathize with the protagonist’s desire to visit the period, to experience what life was really like even fully aware of the harsh realities of existence in the 14th century. And Willis does not hold back in her depiction of those harsh realities, though she balances the grimness with an intimate portrait of family life that keeps this book from turning into simply a fictionalized historical report.

I’m not wholly enthusiastic about this book. It’s a heavy read with very little in the way of consolation at the end, just a weary sort of relief. The first part is weighted with lots of procedural, medical “drama” that just keeps wearing away at you — I was, in fact, bored with the whole tracking-the-epidemic thing at several points and just wanted Willis to get on with the story, though ultimately I think the emotional numbness created by the early part of the book is the only thing that made it possible to get through the true horrors later on. It’s really hard to be enthusiastic about a book where so many people die. But I do recommend it, just not when you’re having a bad week already.

Summer’s more than halfway gone and I feel like I’ve accomplished so little, but it’s hard on a hot afternoon today, when you’ve not gotten enough sleep the night before because certain people on the other side of the globe insist on having interesting conversations about writing even though it’s midnight in your part of the world and you ought to go to bed…

Where was I? Oh yes, it’s hard to concentrate on stuff sometimes, when you’re tired. Even something as seemingly simple as a blog entry.

So while I have a partially written post all about “Story Values” waiting in the wings, and I ought to be filling your ears with all sorts of happy glee about how fabulous my magazine looks all printed and bound, all I’ve got for you right now is a couple of links and, yes…yes, I think I can manage to list a few recent books I’ve read.

We’ll start with the books, in fact, before I sending you off around the internet following my links. In reverse order:

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J.K. Rowling. (spoiler free, I promise!) While I did not attend any midnight parties, I did collect my copy (Target: $17.99) before noon on Saturday and spent the next 14 hours or so reading (counting interruptions to take care of those pesky kids and dogs). I finished at 2:08 in the morning, which is proof that Rowling has en enviable talent of being to drag a reader in and keep them engrossed in the story despite it’s length (759 pages — big type though). While I was totally caught up in the story while reading, and enjoyed a lot of moments on an individual basis, as a whole I have to say that it doesn’t bear a lot of close examination after the fact. It’s not a great piece of fiction, but it’s fun and ultimately that’s all that really matters.

I have to admit that my need to read the book the first weekend was for all the wrong reasons. I’m not an avid Harry Potter fan, and I’ve read fantasy fiction for so long that I can be infinitely patient when it comes to finding out what happens in the next book (Dance of Dragons, anyone?). I simply couldn’t stand not knowing what happens when sooooo many other people would know. Part of it was fear that I would inadvertently have the ending revealed before I got to read it for myself, but mostly it was a simple case of wanting to be on the inside of the circle of knowledge. Ending Envy, I suppose?

Title, by Someone. I mentioned previously a duology I was reading that sucked the creativity right out of my brain. I’m still protecting my karma by not mentioning that book by name in my blog, but if you want to know what it is I’ll be happy to share with you via email or IM. I’ll say this much — the first book was bad, the second was just boring.

The Privilege of the Sword, by Ellen Kushner. Now, THAT is a piece of writing. My only complaint about this book is that it is too short — the ending comes a little abruptly, and I would have liked to see the main character have more to do with the resolution. But seriously, one doesn’t read Kushner’s books for the plots; it’s all about character and dialog. Tasty stuff here (and no, I don’t just mean Alec and Richard!). This fired my writing mind like crazy, and I should probably go read it again just to shake the last vestiges of cobwebs caused by the previously unnamed book from my brain.

The Hallowed Hunt, by Lois McMaster Bujold. Set in the same world as her previous two fantasies (The Curse of Chalion and Paladin of Souls) which I just love, love, love, but unfortunately this is not quite of the same caliber. Mind you, it’s a good book, just not quite as good as the other two. Still looking forward to the next in The Sharing Knife series, which I’ll buy on the next trip to the bookstore if I don’t opt to replace my copy of Kay’s A Song for Arbonne first.

Now, links. Really nothing spectacular here. First, a post from Storytellers Unplugged, which is titled Syllogistic Vs. Situational and while I thought it was interesting enough to save the link I honestly don’t remember (thanks to my week of brain fog) what it was about. I’ll have to go reread it myself.

Also, my new favorite castle. An awesome place — I’m not sure if I’d rather live there myself or just make up stories about the people who live here. Heck, why not both? Chris….?

That is about all I’ve got for you tonight. Which is probably enough because I can go on and on even when I don’t have much to say. Thank you for not complaining about that! And yes, an early bed is in the cards for tonight, so that I will be clear-headed enough on the morrow to polish up the draft of the 10Q post I’ve been working on, and maybe even smoosh together the poem that I stupidly put into the scene. You can bet that if the post doesn’t show up in the next two or three days, it’s that poem that’s holding me up…

And that, folks, is really all for right now.

I thought I’d take advantage to my unexpected day off (a “perk” of working motherhood, I suppose, when you have child home sick) to update my list of books read. It’s been three months since I last posted anything about the books I was reading, and though I’ve gathered up everything I can find, I’m sure I’ve probably missed something.

Stealing Fire from the Gods: The Complete Guide to Story for Writers & Filmmakers<, by James Bonnett.

Unlocking the secrets of story reveals the secrets of the mind and awakens the power of story within you. Work with that power and you can steal fire from the gods. Master that power and you can create stories that will live forever.

This was my New Years’ writing book purchase and was, for me, and excellent choice. I honestly need to go back and reread this to make any kind of accurate summary of Bonnett’s theories, but I’ll just say that any writer who feels an affinity for the work of Joseph Campbell will appreciate what he’s done. Unlike Christopher Vogler, who’s A Writer’s Journey distilled Campell’s work into a formula aimed primarily at Hollywood, Bonnett concentrates more on process than product, giving much more insight into why archetypes function as they do, by introducing Jung into the conversation, and how to let structure work for you instead of being a slave to structure. As I said, I need to reread and take notes to give a more detailed report, but very worth the effort!

Daughter of Fortune, by Isabel Allende

Orphaned at birth, Eliza Sommers is raised in the British colony of Valparaiso, Chile, by the well-intentioned Victorian spinster Miss Ros and her more rigid brother Jeremy. Just as she meets ans falls in love with the wildly inappropriate Joaquin Andieta, a lowly clerk who works for Jeremy, gold is discovered in the hills of northern California. By 1849, Chileans of every strips have fallen prey to feverish dreams of wealth. Joaquin takes off for San Francisco to seek his fortune, and Eliza, pregnant with his child, decides to follow him.

Allende is undeniably a great writer, but I found learning about the three different worlds depicted in the novel the most interesting part of the book: Victorian Valparaiso, Imperial China, and Gold Rush California provide an interesting contrast to one another, and it was interesting to see these cultures that are otherwise pretty unfamiliar to me. Even the Gold Rush, of which I have a greater knowledge, was awash with detail and description that brought it to life for me in a whole new way. A rambling, pleasant read, but not the most satisfying story.

Harrowing the Dragon, by Patricia A. McKillip
A collection of short stories, most of which I’d read previously in other anthologies. I’m glad to have them all in one book, now, ready to dip into whenever I need a dose of McKillip’s unique style.

Swordspoint, by Ellen Kushner, and The Fall of Kings, by Ellen Kushner & Delia Sherman
I’m grouping these together, even though I didn’t read them consecutively. The first was a reread for me, though it’s been a good decade since I last picked it up. It remains a great story, even though I can’t figure out how I enjoyed it so much when I’m not sure I really like either of the main characters. It must be all the dashing swordplay. My only quibble with this book is how one of the viewpoint characters just drops out of the story towards the end, playing no role in the climax or resolution whatsoever. It makes me think his whole storyline was simply filler. But otherwise the book is a classic, deserving of the enduring praise it has received.

The second book, likewise, seemed a little stretched out. I think it could have been told more compactly. All the same, it made me cry at the end, and I won’t blame it entirely on that time of the month. A very touching tale that adds a fascinating dimension to the world Kushner created. I only wish the women in the story played a less peripheral role, but I anticipate the most recent addition, Nebula-nominated The Privilege of the Sword, will make up for that minor failing.

Odalisque, by Fiona McIntosh

Captured by slave traders in the inhospitable desert, Lazar fought his way to freedom, earning the coveted position of Spur of Percheron. Charged with protecting his adopted city from enemies on both sides of its walls, he has led a charmed life as confidant to and protector of Zar Joreb for many years. But now Joreb is dead…

I read about this book online in a few places, with such glowing phrases of anticipation I went looking for it eagerly, even though I’ve never read any of the author’s other work. Sadly, I was disappointed. An intriguing setting is about all this book had to offer. Well, less critical readers than I might enjoy the story, which is a political melodrama spiced with an impeding war between the gods. But, personally, I’m not encouraged to go looking for the second volume when it comes out.

Never Have Your Dog Stuffed, Alan Alda
Yes, I know…an aberration in my usual fantasy-stuffed reading list. I don’t typically read biography, and neither am I an avid fan of Alda, but my sister gave this to my mother who passed it on to me, so I went ahead and read it. The man had an interesting life, that’s for sure. I’d like to add a few more biographies to my reading list: anyone have any suggestions?

Paladin of Souls, by Lois McMaster Bujold

A royal dowager, released from the curse of madness and manipulated by an untrustworthy god, is plunged into a desperate struggle to preserve the endangered souls of a realm.

Wow. Wow wow wow wow wow. All I can say is no wonder this book won both the Hugo and Nebula awards. I’d never read Bujold before last year, when I picked up The Curse of Chalion and was totally swept away. After that, I eagerly picked up the first book in her new duology (The Sharing Knife: Beguilement) and was equally impressed by her setting, characters and skillful writing. Paladin of Souls surpasses them both by far. You know how picky I am, and I cannot find a single thing in this book to pick apart. The story is carefully told, each detail given precisely the right amount of emphasis to build tension and plot. The characters are unique individuals, real people trapped in extraordinary circumstances, surprising you sometimes, but never acting, er, uncharacteristically. I adore how unabashedly Bujold’s characters fall in love with one another, hopeful, awkward, but without all the angst and denial present in so much fantasy, where characters wait until the last possible moment to realize they’re in love. The inner journey of the main character is twined perfectly with the outer complications of the plot, so when they reach their simultaneous conclusions and the book ends, I just let out a happy little sigh of contentment.

I liked it so much I went out and bought the only remaining fantasy book of hers, The Hallowed Hunt, and am reading it now, and I’m wondering which of her many SF titles I want to start off with — and I never read SF.

***
I think that’s all of them, but I probably missed something along the way. What I’ve never counted in my reading list is the books I read to the kids; perhaps I’ll do a special edition that covers those. It’s been a year filled with fairies, for us, but right now we’re reading The Bridge to Terebithia (which I’ve never read before) and soon I’m going to introduce them to some of my favorite books from when I was a girl: Misty of Chintoteague (ponies!!!).

Coming Soon:
The Hallowed Hunt, by Lois McMaster Bujold
Kushiel’s Scion, by Jacqueline Carey
The Darkness that Comes Before, by R. Scott Bakker
Un Lun Dun, by China Mieville

I realized, after the last post, that I tend to focus on what’s I didn’t like about a book when I write up my comments on it. That’s my inner editor at work, I think, picking on others’ writing because I haven’t done any of my own lately for it to pick on. Or perhaps it’s a vestige of my last writers’ group, which as a whole focused on telling the author of any given piece what they did wrong, or “you should do it this way instead.” That’s why I’m not a part of the group anymore.

As far as Ysabel goes, I was disappointed because it lacks the poignancy I loved from his earlier books. But while that may be missing, there are still a lot of real good things about this book, as you can see has been pointed out in the reviews posted at his site. I’ll excuse my failure to linger over the good parts by saying I’m not really writing reviews here so much as a quickly written up response to a book I’ve just finished. But I promise I’ll try to be less negative in future write ups, and include what I like as well as what I didn’t like.

Ysabel
by Guy Gavriel Kay

“You have blundered into a corner of a very old story…”

Ned Marriner is spending six weeks with his father in France, where the celebrated photographer is shootign Saint-Sauveur Cathedral in Aix-en-Provence. Both father and son fear for Ned’s mother — a physician with Doctors Without Bordres, currently assigned to the civil war-torn country of Sudan. This is not the first time she’s placed herself in harm’s way to help alleviate suffering — and Ned has inherited her courage. He’ll need it.

While exploring the cathedral, Ned meets Kate Wenger, an American exchange student with a deep knowledge of the area’s history. But even Kate is at a losss when she and Ned surprise a scar-faced stranger, wearing a leather jacket and carrying a knife, deep inside the cathedral. “I think you ought to go now,” he tells them. “You have blundered into a corner of a very old story…”

In this ancient place, where the borders between the livng and the long-dead are thin, Ned and his family are about to be drawn into a haunted tale, as mythic figures from conflicts of long ago erupt into the present, changing — and claiming — lives.

You know an author must be one of your favorites when you find his newly released novel in the sort room of the bookstore where you work and you carry it around with you for the remaining hour of your shit, even though you are still working. Yes, that’s the kind of draw the work of Guy Gavriel Kay has for me; it’s been a year since the release of Ysabel was announced, and I’ve been watching the inventory at work closely, waiting for the long anticipated date of its arrival. I even squee’d aloud when I saw the books on the back table — fortunately no one else was there to hear me.

Despite my excitement, I did not delve into the book immediately upon arriving home. First of all, I was really tired that day, and I didn’t want my reading experience dulled by fatigue. I was also still enmeshed in Vellum, and I knew if I interrupted my reading of that book, I’d never be able to get back to finishing it. I was also experiencing strange pair of emotions, sort of the flip sides of the same coin, that kept me from diving in as soon as I could. One was the knowledge that once I finished it, I would never have that magical “first kiss” again; sometimes when you anticipate a great experience, you want to put it off as long as possible, to increase your enjoyment of it. The second feeling was fear, fear that maybe the book wouldn’t be as great an experience as I was hoping.

I’ve been let down by Kay before, after all. My first encounter with his work was A Song for Arbonne, which a friend recommended to me knowing my interest in the Middle Ages. I was quickly hooked by Kay’s style, the poignancy of his storytelling, the subtle blending of myth, history and fantasy –everything just clicked for me and I quickly devoured every other work of his available up to that point: The Fionavar Tapestry, Tigana (my absolute favorite), The Lions of Al-Rassan. When the first volume of The Sarantine Mosaic came out, I was a little disappointed, and didn’t pick up the second volume until it came out in paperback. It wasn’t until I read both books together, a few years later, that I realized what a masterpiece it is. The Last Light of the Sun, however, Kay’s last book before Ysabel, remains a disappointment even after a couple of readings — Oh, it’s not by any means a bad book, and I’d rather read it than a lot of other fantasy fiction on the shelves. It just didn’t have the same impact on me that his earlier books did.

Sadly, the same is true of Ysabel, for a few reasons. The major one is that Kay’s distinctive lyric style, which heightens the emotional poignancy of the story (for me, at least…I know other readers who’d be put off by it) and elevates the tale and characters into a more mythic space, cannot survive the impact with cellphones, iPods and the World Wide Web. The book is set entirely in the real, modern world, a first for Kay, and while there is plenty of magical stuff happening, a true sense of being in a mythic space is never achieved. A lot of it has to do with language, and a lot of it has to do with technology. The hero’s solo descent into the underworld (which happens to be up a mountain in this book) just doesn’t seem quite so heroic when he flips open his cellphone at any time to check in with his dad.

This is also the first time Kay’s main character is an adolescent; even the youngest primary characters he’s created before have already crossed the threshold into adulthood. I don’t have a problem with young protagonists, and I should just be thankful that Ned isn’t a stereotypical angst-ridden teen. He’s a pretty normal kid, up until the start of the book, but that normalness is almost a drawback here. Aside from his concern for his mom, he has no depth, nothing that makes him stand out as a character we want to care about; I might even go so far as to say he’s a typical Mary-Sue — the average kid unexpectedly granted extraordinary abilities.

The most interesting characters (including, even, the surprise appearance of a couple of familiar faces from one of Kay’s other books — I won’t spoil the surprise by saying who) are those we see the least of, the three ancient individuals in whose story Ned becomes entangled. Even though Kay’s explored the tragic lovers’ triangle before (twice, actually, in the Fionavar Tapestry and The Lions of Al-Rassan), I wouldn’t have minded a repeat here, if only we’d been able to see more of it. These are the only three characters with real depth in the tale, and we are left guessing at most of their history together, tantalizing glimpse of the great story behind the series of events that make up the novel.

I guess what I miss most is the emotional impact that Kay’s earlier works seemed to have. I want to be moved to tears, like when Dianora walks into the sea or Diarmuid rides into battle for the last time or Rodrigo and Ammar must duel to the death. I want to be struck with the mystery of seeing a riselka, and feel the joy at discovering an unexpected love. That’s what I want most from a Kay novel, and I’m disappointed not to have found it once again. Well, you can’t strike gold every time, right? I’ll just have to put my hopes on hold until Kay’s next book is ready for me to read.

Upcoming:
Stealing Fire from the Gods by James Bonnet
Blood and Thunder: An Epic of the American West by Hampton Sides
Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende
The Worm Ouroboros by E.R. Eddison

Vellum: The Book of All Hours
by Hal Duncan

It’s 2017 and angels and demons walk the earth. Once they were human; now they are unkin, transformed by the ancient machine-code language of reality itself. They seek The Book of All Hours, the mythical tome within which the blueprint for all reality is transcribed, which has been lost somewhere in the Vellum–the vast realm of eternity upon which our world is a mere scratch.

The Vellum, where the unkin are gathering for war.

The Vellum, where a fallen angel and a renegade devil are about to settle an age-old feud.

The Vellum, where the past, present, and future will collide with ancient worlds and myths.

And the Vellum will burn…

Note to self: when blurbs on the cover of a book proclaim it “mind-blowing” — not just once, but twice — it’s a good indication that you’re going to spend much of the book trying to figure out exactly what’s going on. And I don’t mean that in a good way, like you would with a mystery.

Given the elements woven together into Vellum — Sumerian and Greek mythology, alternate realities, emerging mythic archetypes, the intersection of science and magic — it should have been a real winner for me. Duncan has (successfully, I suppose) filled the gap between H.P. Lovecraft and William Gibson, and taken on a chapter-by-chapter basis, it can be quite engrossing (my favorite chapter, Prometheus Found, told entirely through journal entries and correspondence, is hardly less than a paean to Lovecraft himself), but all together it’s all so deliberately disordered and opaque that it made reading a real chore.

I have not read any real reviews of the book, but the odd comment here (other than what’s on the back cover) and there suggested to me that Duncan chose style over story, and that’s certainly the case. I certainly can’t disparage his stylistic competence; he’s a good writer, even if he does tend to favor too much the modernistic conceit of writing in the present tense. It’s clear that every ambiguity in the book — multiple characters with the same name, divergent timelines, shifting geographies — is done with purpose, in accordance with the very nature of the world that Duncan’s imagined.

But I don’t like books that leave me thinking, “Okay…who’s that now? And how are they related to that other person?” I don’t mind working hard for a good story, but since this story is only half-told (the second volume, Ink, will becoming out sometime soon), I’m not even sure this story is a good one, and frankly I’m not holding much hope. I feel no real attachment to the characters (except maybe Finnan, and then only after his transformation at the end). The events are disjointed, with the tenuous connections between them only beginning to be illuminated by the end of the book. It’s impossible to build up any sort of anticipation about what might happen, because just as soon as you think you’ve got things figured out, Duncan adds something completely off-the-wall, so expectations are useless.

I am sure some people (people who read James Joyce for fun, likely) enjoy books like this where style takes precedence. Me, I like my stories clear and unobstructed by the showmanship of the author.

Upcoming:
Ysabel by Guy Gavriel Kay
Blood and Thunder: An Epic of the American West by Hampton Sides
Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende
The Worm Ouroboros by E.R. Eddison

Something Rich and Strange
by Patricia A. McKillip
ibooks, 2005

Megan is an artist who draws seascapes. Jonah owns a shop devoted to treasures from the deep. Their lives, so strongly touched by the ocean, become forever intertwined when enchanting people of the sea lure them further into the underwater world…and away from each other.

Like much of McKillip’s work, this novel reminds me of a sugar-covered confection — perfect and delicious as you bite into it, but without much to chew on. That doesn’t bother me in the least. What I expect from a McKillip novel is wonderfully evocative prose that transports me to a realm where the fantastic seems only natural. Something Rich and Strange delivers this in full. There are no real surprises in this story that resonates with myth and fairy tale, but it’s easy enough to get swept away in the tide (or drawn in by the siren’s song) of McKillip’s descriptive prowess. It’s all so very pretty down under the sea. The only false note is the ecological message — not that I disagree with it, but I thought it a little heavy-handed for the delicate coral kingdom of the undersea world that McKillip created.

Upcoming:
Vellum by Hal Duncan
Blood and Thunder: An Epic of the American West by Hampton Sides
Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende
The Worm Ouroboros by E.R. Eddison