The Beggar Maid: Stories of Flo and Rose, by Alice Munro

Second paragraph of third story (“Half a Grapefruit”):

There were four large clean windows along the wall. There were new fluorescent lights. The class was Health and Guidance, a new idea. Boys and girls mixed until after Christmas, when they got on to Family Life. The teacher was young and optimistic. She wore a dashing red suit that flared out over the hips. She went up and down, up and down the rows, making everybody say what they had for breakfast, to see if they were keeping Canada’s Food Rules.

I’ve been raving here about the short fiction of Canada’s Nobel laureate, mostly set in small town Ontario, usually in collections without a linking theme. But this book (originally published in Canada as Who Do You Think You Are?) is a little different – a sequence of stories about stepmother and stepdaughter Flo and Rose (more Rose than Flo), a couple of which ended up in the Collected Stories volume that I read earlier this year. It won the Governor-General’s Award in Canada and is the only short story collection ever to have been shortlisted for the Booker Prize (in 1980; William Golding’s Rites of Passage won). The pace is slow and considered – on the whole these are accounts not of specific incidents but of life choices and changes. Flo never leaves the village where they come from; Rose goes to university, gets married, divorced, becomes mildly famous, has various relationships and eventually returns. For me the two standout stories were “Mischief” and “Simon’s Luck”, as Rose becomes herself again after the end of her marriage, but I see other reviewers preferring the beginning and end of the book. Anyway, once again tremendously engaging, absorbing and convincing.

This was both the top unread book by a woman and the top unread non-genre fiction book on my shelves, as measured by LibraryThing ownership. Next in the former category is Brother and Sister, by Joanna Trollope; next in the latter is The Dinner, by Hermann Koch.

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King John

King John was not a good man —
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air —
And bad King John stood dumbly there,
Blushing beneath his crown.

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Interesting Links for 19-08-2016

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What EPH would have meant in practice

MidAmeriCon II, this year’s WorldCon now in full swing in Kansas City, has published a retrospective count of the Hugo nominations of the last two years as they would have been if the proposed new EPH system had been implemented. This is to an extent a counterfactual exercise – particularly for last year, when a number of finalists withdrew precisely because of the success of the slates. But no such comparison can ever be perfect. The reported effect of EPH on the final ballot (I’m not looking at the long-lists here) would have been as follows:

2015 Best Novel: Lock In by John Scalzi would have been on the final ballot instead of The Dark Between The Stars by Kevin Anderson, assuming both finalists who withdrew IRL still withdrew.
2015 Best Novella: Two of the John C. Wright finalists, “The Plural of Helen of Troy” and “Pale Realms of Shade”, would have been replaced by Patrick Rothfuss’ “The Slow Regard of Silent Things” and Ken Liu’s “The Regular”. This was a category where No Award won IRL.
2015 Best Novelette: No change to the final ballot, because John C. Wright’s story which was disqualified IRL would not have qualified under EPH.
2015 Best Short Story: assuming the same withdrawals, John C. Wright’s “The Parliament of Beasts and Birds” and Steve Diamond’s “A Single Samurai” would have been replaced by Ursula Vernon’s [Nebula-winning] “Jackalope Wives” and Aliette de Bodard’s “The Breath of War”. This was a category where No Award won IRL.
2015 Best Related Work: Wisdom From My Internet by Michael Z. Williamson and Letters to Gardner by Lou Antonelli would have been replaced by Jo Walton’s What Makes This Book So Great and the Mad Norwegian compilation Chicks Dig Gaming. This was a category where No Award won IRL.
2015 Best Graphic Story: Sex Criminals volume 1 would have been replaced by Schlock Mercenary: Broken Wind
2015 Best Editor, Short Form: Bryan Thomas Schmidt and Vox Day would have been replaced by John Joseph Adams and Neil Clarke. This was a category where No Award won IRL.
2015 Best Editor, Long Form: Vox Day would have been replaced by Liz Gorinsky. This was a category where No Award won IRL.
2015 Best Professional Artist: Kirk DouPonce would have been replaced by John Picacio.
2015 Best Semiprozine: Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine would have been replaced by The Book Smugglers.
2015 Best Fanzine: No change.
2015 Best Fancast: No change.
2015 Best Fan Writer: Matthew David Surridge, who withdrew IRL, and also Dave Freer would not have qualified; they would have been replaced by Abigail Nussbaum.
2015 Best Fan Artist: No change
2015 Campbell Award: No change.

2014 Hugos: Most categories would have been unchanged by EPH. The exceptions are:
2014 Best Editor, Short Form: Sheila Williams would have been replaced by Matthew David Surridge
2014 Best Professional Artist: Galen Dara and Fiona Staples (the latter tied for fifth place in nominations IRL) would have been replaced by Joey Hi-Fi.
2014 Best Fancast: the three-way tie at fifth place for nominations IRL would have been resolved in favour of Tea and Jeopardy, with The SF Signal Podcast – which actually won – and The Writer And The Critic losing out.

1939 Retro Hugos: there would have been relatively more changes, due I think to the relatively lower number of nominators.
1939 Best Novella: “A Matter of Form” by H.L. Gold would have been replaced by “Tarzan and the Elephant Men” by Edgar Rice Burroughs.
1939 Best Short Story: “Hollerbochen’s Dilemma” by Ray Bradbury would have been replaced by “An Experiment of the Dead” by Helen Simpson.
1939 Best Fan Writer: Harry Warner Jr would have been replaced by William F. Temple.

There is a lot to think about here. It’s clear that EPH in 2015 would have given a more diverse ballot, and would have provided two non-slate candidates in four of the five categories where voters No Awarded the slates. But applied to a “normal year”, we actually lose a finalist who won; and for the lower-intensity Retro Hugos, the edge effects get a bit unpredictable.

Dave McCarty, Hugo Admnistrator both this year and in 2014, comments in the paper: “The changes to the Ballot and Long list are not easily verified and for people reviewing the detailed results at the end the only way to check that the process is working correctly would require access to secret nomination data and significant time. The difficulty in verification means that to check any result requires time which is NOT available to award administrators when it is time to close the nominating and prepare for the Ballot announcement. These are significant hurdles for a process that is generally designed to be open and democratic.”

I sympathise, and I also have a more basic concern, which is that EPH (which seemed to me like a good idea when it was first proposed) is fundamentally designed to address last year’s problem. On Sunday we will find out what difference it would have made this year. But as Hugo administrator for Worldcon 75, my personal concern is next year, and I guess if I were at the Business Meeting, I would need to be convinced that it is the right answer at this time. Of course, if the Business Meeting does ratify it this weekend, I’ll duly implement it regardless of my own views.

Edited to add: I’ve been reflecting on this a bit more, after being reminded over on File 770 that the only change EPH would have made in 1984 would have been to drop a woman (Sherri S Tepper) from the Campbell ballot.

The changes it would have made in 2014 would have been to drop a woman in favour of a man for Best Editor Short Form, to drop a woman and a man and bring in a different man for Best Professional Artist, and to drop both the actual winner and another podcast run by a woman and a man from Best Fancast.

Admittedly it’s a small sample, but I don’t really like what I am seeing of EPH’s effects on the diversity of the ballot in “normal” years. However I have to concede that it would have replaced that embarrassingly bad Ray Bradbury story with one by Helen Simpson on the Retro Hugo ballot.

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Merchanter’s Luck, by C.J. Cherryh

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Sandor reached and put the interior lights on, and Lucy’s surroundings acquired some cheer and new dimensions. Rightward, the corridor to the cabins glared with what had once been white tiles—bare conduits painted white like the walls; and to the left another corridor horizoned up the curve, lined with cabinets and parts storage. Aft of the bridge and beyond the shallowest of arches, another space showed, reflected in the idle screens of vacant stations, bunks in brown, worn plastic, twelve of them, that could be set manually for the pitch at dock. Their commonroom, that had been. Their indock sleeping area, living quarters, wardroom—whatever the need of the moment. He set Lucy’s autopilot, unbelted and eased himself out of the cushion: that was enough to get himself a stiff fine if station caught him at it, moving through the vicinity of a station with no one at controls.

Don’t hate me, but I have often found C.J. Cherryh’s work difficult to engage with. (I have similar problems with John Crowley and M. John Harrison.) I bought this at Eastercon to give her another try, having rather bounced off both Downbelow Station, to which this is a sequel, and Cyteen a few years back. I’m afraid this didn’t work for me either; I appreciate the tightness of the prose, but I lost track of the plot early on and could not work out why I should care much about the characters. Lesson learned, I guess.

This was both my top unread sf book and top unread book by a woman (as measured by LibraryThing popularity). Next on the former list is The Collected Stories of Arthur C. Clarke, next on the latter The Beggar Maid by Alice Munro (which was already at the top of the pile).

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Interesting Links for 18-08-2016

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Short Trips: Seven Deadly Sins, ed. David Bailey

Second paragraph of third story (“Angel”, by ‘Tara Samms’ [Stephen Cole]):

The lights stay on at night, shine in your eyes, you can’t sleep. When you fall to fatigue at last they wake you and feed you pills that snag in the throat.

I wasn’t all that satisfied with the previous anthology in this series, but I felt this was on much firmer ground – one story for each of the first seven Doctors, with linking material featuring the Eighth, and although the stories’ themes are linked, they are also different. The least successful was the first, “The Duke’s Folly” by Gareth Wigmore, which seemed to me to have the First Doctor and companions way out of character. “Angel”, by ‘Tara Samms’ [Stephen Cole], with the Third Doctor and Jo, is gloomy but well-written. “Suitors, Inc.” by Paul Magrs features the Fourth Doctor, the second Romana, Harry and Sarah and gets very silly perhaps at the expense of plot, but it is fun. Also fun but much better controlled is Rebecca Levene’s “Too Rich For My Blood”, in which she demonstrates her knowledge of poker (she was working on a book about it at the time this story was written) and also of the Seventh Doctor, Benny and Chris. So all in all, a decent jumping-in point if you want to sample this series.

Next in this sequence is Short Trips: A Day in the Life, edited by Ian Farrington.

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Interesting Links for 17-08-2016

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My Hugo predictions

I really loved the style adopted by Kyra when making her predictions this time last year. Based on a little more than gut instinct (ie reading every public blog post that I could find by anyone which mentioned the Hugo in the last couple of months), I am copying her example and making my predictions for this year's Hugos, in the order that the results will be declared on Saturday night (early Sunday morning this side of the Atlantic).

The John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer
Who I think will win it: Andy Weir, slate's top pick this year but also supported by fans who felt he was deprived by slate last year
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Alyssa Wong, youngest Nebula winner in decades
Who I think will win if if I am very wrong: I do not think that I will be very wrong

Best Fan Artist
Who I think will win it: Steve Stiles, only non-slate nominee, frequently passed over in previous years
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Christian Quinot, slate's top pick
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: No Award

Best Fan Writer
Who I think will win it: Mike Glyer, only non-slate nominee, had a very good year until recent illness
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Jeffro Johnson, slate's top pick
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: No Award

Best Fancast
Who I think will win it: No Award, all others are slate nominees
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Tales to Terrify, the only one with significant non-slate following
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: The Rageaholic, slate's top pick

Best Fanzine
Who I think will win it: File 770, supported by slate and non-slate fans alike
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: I do not think I will be wrong
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: I do not think I will be very wrong

Best Semiprozine
Who I think will win it: Uncanny Magazine
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Strange Horizons
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: Beneath Ceaseless Skies
[slate's top pick in this category is No Award]

Best Professional Artist
Who I think will win it: No Award, all finalists are slate candidates
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Larry Elmore, slate's top pick
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: I do not think I will be very wrong

Best Editor, Long Form
Who I think will win it: Sheila Gilbert
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Toni Weisskopf
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: Vox Day, slate's top pick

Best Editor, Short Form
Who I think will win it: Sheila Williams
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Ellen Datlow
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: Jerry Pournelle, slate's top pick

Best Dramatic Presentation, Short Form
Who I think will win it: Doctor Who, “Heaven Sent”
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Jessica Jones, “AKA Smile”
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic: “The Cutie Map” Parts 1 and 2, the slate's top pick

Best Dramatic Presentation, Long Form
Who I think will win it: The Martian, slate's top pick but with much wider support
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: Mad Max: Fury Road

Best Graphic Story
Who I think will win it: The Sandman: Overture, slate's top pick but also the only good nominee
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: I do not think I will be wrong
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: No Award

Best Related Work
Who I think will win it: No Award
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: I do not think I will be wrong
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: Between Light and Shadow by Marc Aramini, slate's top pick

Best Short Story
Who I think will win it: “Cat Pictures Please” by Naomi Kritzer
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: I do not think I will be wrong
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: Space Raptor Butt Invasion by Chuck Tingle, slate's top pick

Best Novelette
Who I think will win it: “Folding Beijing” by Hao Jingfang, trans. Ken Liu
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: “Obits” by Stephen King, slate's top pick but with wider support
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: “And You Shall Know Her by the Trail of Dead” by Brooke Bolander, only non-slate finalist

Best Novella
Who I think will win it: Binti by Nnedi Okorafor
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Penric’s Demon by Lois McMaster Bujold, slate's top pick but with wider support
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: I do not think I will be very wrong

Best Novel
Who I think will win it: The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin
Who I think will win it if I am wrong: Uprooted by Naomi Novik, slate's top pick but with wider support
Who I think will win it if I am very wrong: Ancillary Mercy by Ann Leckie

Let’s see what happens…

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Ghastly Beyond Belief, eds. Neil Gaiman and Kim Newman

Second extract in third chapter:

‘I’ll introduce myself. Name’s Lt John MacGregor, as a matter of fact, in the I.P.F.’
‘Interplanetary Force,’ goggled Fred.
‘Precisely,’ said MacGregor with an exaggerated bow.
‘My man, you are now in the presence of the John MacGregor who has shot down seventeen of the Martian invasion fleet.’
LIONEL FANTHORPE, Flame Mass

This is a point-and-laugh collection of extracts from sf books and films which are grotesquely over-written or badly written, and does pretty much what it says on the tin. Some of the extracts are pretty glorious but I’m afraid most just made me wince. I found the first half, which concentrates on books, much more interesting than the second half, which concentrates on films. Part of the Neil Gaiman Humble Bundle that I got last year.

This reached the top of my list of unread sf recommended by you guys at the end of last year. However, I think I’m going to count it as non-fiction instead, as the interpretative framing is the core of the book. Next on that list anyway is Cuckoo Song by Frances Hardinge.

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Interesting Links for 16-08-2016

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The Host, by Peter Emshwiler

Second paragraph of third chapter:

“Oh, good, Watly. Oh, good. Perfect timing. Just perfect. Couldn’t’ve asked for better. Things’ll be ready in just – almost perfect timing, Watly. A few more minutes and we’ll sit down to a – be ready in a few minutes, Watly. You have a seat and put your feet up.”

This 1991 novel may have been partly inspired by Frederik Pohl’s memorable 1974 story “We Purchased People”, with which it shares the concept of human bodies being rented out for use by other intelligences, the original owner helplessly aware as murder is committed by their hands. However it’s not quite in the same league – where Pohl’s protagonist is repulsive and has done dreadful things with the result that he is punished by being rented out to aliens, Emshwiler’s Watly is participating in the free market and renting himself to rich humans, in a near-future surveillance society which is sexually liberated in many ways except that it remains deeply homophobic. The impact is very different – Pohl gets us to sympathise with an awful man to whom awful things happen, Emshwiler switches from the implications of the hosting technology to standard techno-thriller mode once we’ve had the original setup, allowing him to explore his future city at exciting pace, before the inevitable twist leads to a predictable conclusion.

This was the SF book that had lingered longest unread on my shelves. Next in that list is This Mortal Mountain, Volume 3 of the Collected Stories of Roger Zelazny.

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Drama and Delight: The Life of Verity Lambert, by Richard Marson

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Other than this official scrutiny, Verity knew that she was likely to be the focus of a different kind of attention in her new role and, as a consequence, she was careful with her image, choosing well-cut expensive clothes to offset her well-cut, expensive hair, discreet jewellery and killer heels. She was adopting her version of what would later be termed ‘power dressing’, acquiring a style to belie her youth and counterpoint her natural authority. She was, she later said, ‘a bit of a freak’ and arrived when both her new bosses, Sydney Newman and Donald Wilson, were on leave so must have felt all the more exposed. But it is not true that she knew no one else at the BBC; Newman had already brought over some of the old crowd from ABC and her friend Irene Shubik would soon follow her.

On the strength of Marson’s biography of John Nathan-Turner, the last producer of Old Who, I bought this, his biography of the show’s first producer. I found it a somewhat frustrating read. As an examination of Verity Lambert’s career in her own terms, it’s compelling and exhaustive – friends, enemies, ex-husband and lovers are all interviewed and provide a three-dimensional perspective of a driven, creative personality. It’s a more cheerful book than the Nathan-Turner biography because Lambert’s career was far more successful; she died in her 70s, a month before she was due to receive a lifetime achievement award at the Women in Film and Television Awards, and the day before the 44th anniversary of the first episode of Doctor Who.

(Some of her personal effects were auctioned on eBay after her death, and I ended up with her complimentary copy of the 2003 DVD of The Three Doctors. She had not opened it – she says on one of her last DVD commentaries that she found it difficult to watch the deterioration of William Hartnell’s health even from her own time as producer, so it’s hardly surprising that she gave The Three Doctors a miss.)

I was aware of her early triumph in successfully handling a live broadcast of a play where the actor playing one of the key characters suddenly died in the middle of filming, and of course of her contribution to Doctor WhoAdam Adamant Lives!, Shoulder to Shoulder, Rumpole of the Bailey, Clockwise, A Cry in the Dark, G.B.H., Sleepers and Jonathan Creek.

The big flop was Eldorado, which I actually rather liked in the day; Marson’s analysis of what went wrong is interesting but doesn’t quite land its punches. For me, the two obvious mistakes were the initial casting of so many weak actors (which would appear to have been entirely Julia Smith’s fault rather than Lambert’s) and the over-ambitious timescale which led to early episodes being filmed on a set that was still being built (definitely Lambert’s fault rather than anyone else’s). It would have been interesting to see if a connecting line could be drawn between the Eldorado fiasco and Lambert’s other big professional setbacks – the court case on intellectual property theft for the concept behind Rock Follies, which she lost, and her feuds with Irene Shubik and a few others.

There were three other areas which I wish Marson had stepped back to explore in more depth. The first is the overall cultural role of film and television in itself. We rather get the impression that Lambert’s work was important because she did it, rather than looking at the wider social import. There is loads of research available on this, much of it citing Lambert, and it’s a shame that none of it is used here. The second is feminism – the extract I give above illustrates the difficulties that she faced in her early years because of her gender, but it’s irritating that this pops up over and over as incidental detail rather than as a unifying theme. The third is Jewishness (if that’s the right word). Lambert was strongly identified as a Jew, whether she wanted to be or not, and she varied on that at different times in her career. But it would have been nice to read a bit more background about how Jews fitted into British society in general in Lambert’s lifetime, and into the entertainment industry in particular.

Having said that, it’s still a better book than the John Nathan-Turner biography because it has a more interesting subject, and perhaps has learned a little from the previous one.

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Saturday Reading

Current
Watership Down, by Richard Adams (a chapter a week)
Tears of the Oracle, by Justin Richards
The Last Theorem, by Arthur C. Clarke and Frederik Pohl
Alice in Sunderland: An Entertainment, by Bryan Talbot

Last books finished
Merchanter’s Luck, by C.J. Cherryh
The Beggar Maid, by Alice Munro
Atom Bomb Blues, by Andrew Cartmel

Next books
Oracle, by Ian Watson
The Complete Plays of Christopher Marlowe
Robot Dreams, by Isaac Asimov

Books acquired in last week
Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching Towards the Somme, by Frank McGuinness

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Doctor Dolittle in the Moon, by Hugh Lofting

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Yes, she had seen the tree, she [Polynesia the parrot] told us, but it still seemed a long way off. The Doctor wanted to know why she had taken so long in coming down and she said she had been making sure of her bearings so that she would be able to act as guide. Indeed, with the usual accuracy of birds, she had a very clear idea of the direction we should take. And we set off again, feeling more at ease and confident.

I picked this up two weeks ago during an insomniac spell and of course read it very quickly – it’s a very short book, the eighth of the series of twelve books about the Doctor who learns to talk to animals.

The writer assumes that the reader has read the previous books in the series, particularly the immediately preceding Doctor Dolittle’s Garden which apparently ends with the Doctor and friends borne to the Moon by a giant moth. So we start bang in the middle of the narrative, with no explanation of who any of the characters are or why they are doing what they are doing’ it’s a bit unnerving.

Then we get to the Moon, which owes a certain amount to Lucian of Samosata, with a couple of updates to take account of contemporary scientific knowledge (the lighter gravity, the shorter distance to the horizon; though by the 1920s it was pretty clear that there was no beathable atmosphere, let alone lush vegetation). The Doctor leantrs to talk to lunar plants, applying the techniques he has long employed for animals on Earth. The plot, such as it is, revolves around the race-memory of the formation of the moon passed down to the monkey Chee-Chee and the true identity of the Man in the Moon. It’s interesting to note that the plants of the moon submit to a centrally planned schedule of reproduction so as to avoid exhausting their world’s natural resources, but probably this should be read as vaguely utopian rather than anything more specific.

Readers in Australia can access the whole thing here.

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Interesting Links for 13-08-2016

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Between the world and me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Dr. Jones greeted me at the door. She was lovely, polite, brown. She appeared to be somewhere in that range between forty and seventy years, when it becomes difficult to precisely ascertain a black person’s precise age. She was well composed, given the subject of our conversation, and for most of the visit I struggled to separate how she actually felt from what I felt she must be feeling. What I felt, right then, was that she was smiling through pained eyes, that the reason for my visit had spread sadness like a dark quilt over the whole house. I seem to recall music – jazz or gospel – playing in the back, but conflicting with that I also remember a deep quiet overcoming everything. I thought that perhaps she had been crying. I could not tell for sure. She led me into her large living room. There was no one else in the house. Her Christmas tree was still standing at the end of the room, and there were stockings bearing the name of her daughter and her lost son, and there was a framed picture of him – Prince Jones – on a display table. She brought me water in a heavy glass. She drank tea. She told me that she was born and raised outside of Opelousas, Louisiana, that her ancestors had been enslaved in that same region, and that as a consequence of that enslavement, a fear echoed down through the ages. “It first became clear when I was four,” she told me.

This is a tremendous short book about institutionalised racism in the United States, and in particular the simple fact that black Americans live in continual fear of being killed by agents of the state who are unaccountable for their violence, this being a situation deliberately engineered by the state. The death of Coates’ college friend Prince Jones, at the hands of an undercover black policeman from the notoriously violent Prince George’s County force, is the crux of the argument, framed as a letter from Coates to his teenage son but also of course an open letter to the rest of us.

The unaccountable use of fatal violence by the forces of the state is of course not unique to America, and where I felt Coates lost focus a bit was on the comparative side of things; I think that there are probably positive lessons to be learned by the US from security sector reform successes in other countries (many of which were actually supported by American taxpayers). It’s also a little startling to read his starry-eyed impressions of France, which is hardly a racism-free nirvana. But at the same time, Coates is already one of the most vocal and eloquent commentators on race in the USA and perhaps more widely; and this book has his thoughts distilled into easily digestible length and form. Well worth reading.

This came to the top of my pile as both the most popular unread book by a non-white author and the most popular non-fiction book. The next in those categories are respectively The Apex Book of World SF: Volume 4, and The Parrot’s Theorem by Denis Guedj.

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Tove Jansson: Work and Love, by Tuula Karjalainen

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Tove’s youth and her attitude towards her own life are perhaps best illustrated by the ex libris motto she created in 1947, and used from then on. The Latin phrase – labora et amare – is not quite correct grammatically, but its intended meaning is ‘work and love’. It was characteristic of Tove to put work before love. Most young women would have put them the other way around.The small ex libris drawing contains a large number of motifs, including sea, anchors, roses and thistles, and grapevines winding around Greek columns. Right in the centre of the drawing is a burning heart, at the top right is a naked woman, and on the top left a lion king with a crown, brushes and palette. Tove’s astrological sign was Leo. Along with representation of all the things that she loved, the drawing also shows her own symbols. The large number of different elements makes the small picture area rather crowded, rather like the life of the artist who is just starting out, a young woman in quest of independence and great love. Later she drew another ex libris in the form of a large sea wave. Her last essay in the genre was illustrated by Ham [her mother], and based on Tove’s initials.

I’m fascinated by the great Finnish writer Tove Jansson, and I was fascinated by this book. Growing up in an artistic household, she saw herself as an artist above all else. She wasn’t terribly political, though some of her lovers were, and she did some excellent satirical covers for the magazine Garm in the 1930s. But after the war, her artistic style was out of tune with the times, and while trying to make a living from her art she discovered that her other skills were sometimes more lucrative: her book illustrations and, of course, the Moomins. I hadn’t realised that the Moomins hit the English speaking world big time as early as 1954, when a London newspaper (the Evening News, which merged with the Evening Standard in 1980) commissioned a regular comics strip from her which was widely syndicated. Although she only did it until 1961 (her brother Lars shared the burden from 1959 and took over completely until it ended in 1975) it was a step change in her circumstances.

Tuula Karjalainen’s biography looks in detail at her work but also at the way in which Jansson’s love life intersected it. Like her parents, her lovers were all creative artists in one way or another – Sam Vanni, Tapio Tapiovaara, Atos Wirtanen, Vivica Bandler and finally Tuulikki Pietilä, immortalised as Too-Ticky in the later Moomin books. Karjalainen is very good at teasing out the direct and indirect influence of Tove Jansson and the people she loved on each other’s works – starting when she was still a teenager and modelled for her father’s sculptures. Jansson’s relationship with Tuulikki Pietilä seems to have been the least dramatic of all, and lasted for fifty years.

The book is beautifully illustrated, as you would hope given the importance of the argument that Tove Jansson’s art was crucial to her life; it’s a real joy just to look at, with Tove Jansson’s handsome figure over the years – always slim and sharp, to the very end – dominating the pages. I think even readers who had never heard of her would enjoy just looking at it.

This was the remaining non-fiction book most recommended by you guys at the end of last year. Next on that list is A History of the World in Twelve Maps by Jerry Brotton.

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Interesting Links for 11-08-2016

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Voices from Chernobyl, by Svetlana Alexievich

Second paragraph of Part Three, from Monologue About What We Didn’t Know: Death Can Be So Beautiful, an interview with Nadezhda Vygovskaya, evacuee from the town of Pripyat:

Это случилось в ночь с пятницы на субботу… Утром никто ничего не подозревал. Отправила в школу сына, муж ушел в парикмахерскую. Готовлю обед. Муж скоро вернулся… Со словами: "На атомной какой-то пожар. Приказ: не выключать радио". Я забыла сказать, что мы жили в Припяти, рядом с реактором. До сих пор перед глазами – ярко-малиновое зарево, реактор как-то изнутри светился. Это был не обыкновенный пожар, а какое-то свечение. Красиво. Ничего подобного я в кино не видела. Вечером люди высыпали на балконы, у кого не было, – шли к друзьям, знакомым. У нас девятый этаж, прекрасная видимость. Выносили детей, поднимали на руках: "Посмотри! Запомни!" И это люди, которые на реакторе работали… Инженеры, рабочие… Учителя физики… Стояли в черной пыли… Разговаривали… Дышали… Любовались… Некоторые за десятки километров приезжали на машинах, велосипедах, чтобы посмотреть. Мы не знали, что смерть может быть такой красивой. Но я бы не сказала, что у нее отсутствовал запах. Не весенний и не осенний запах, а что-то совсем другое, и не запах земли… Першило в горле, в глазах – слезы сами по себе. It happened late Friday night. That morning no one suspected anything. I sent my son to school, my husband went to the barber’s. I’m preparing lunch when my husband comes back. “There’s some sort of fire at the nuclear plant,“ he says. “They’re saying we are not to turn off the radio.” I forgot to say that we lived in Pripyat, near the reactor. I can still see the bright-crimson glow, it was like the reactor was glowing. This wasn’t an ordinary fire, it was some kind of emanation. It was pretty. I’d never seen anything like it in the movies. That evening everyone spilled out onto their balconies, and those who didn’t have them went to friend’s houses. We were on the ninth floor, we had a great view. People brought their kids out, picked them up, said, “Look! Remember!” And these were people who worked at the reactor – engineers, workers, physics instructors. They stood in the black dust, talking, breathing, wondering at it. People came from all around on their cars and their bikes to have a look. We didn’t know that death could be so beautiful. Though I wouldn’t say that it had no smell – it wasn’t a spring or an autumn smell, but something else, and it wasn’t the smell of earth. My throat tickled, and my eyes watered.

It's just horrifying, isn't it? Alexievich has collected story after story of ordinary people whose lives were destroyed by the after effects of the Chernobyl explosion on 26 April 1986 (my 19th birthday). Although Chernobyl itself is just inside Ukraine, the Belarussian SSR, now the independent state of Belarus, was much worse hit – 22% of its territory was contaminated to a high level by radioactive materials. I must say I have personal concerns – at the time I was working outdoors on an archaeological site in southern Germany, though I'm glad to say that any ill effects have failed to become apparent in the last thirty years.

I bought this after Svetlana Alexievich won the Nobel Prize last year. Belarus is a country of deep fascination for me – I had two colleagues from there in my last job, one of whom lost her father (an open air theater performer) to cancer in the late 1980s. It's the largest European country that I have not yet visited (the others are Norway, Iceland, Latvia and Lithuania). For those who are fascinated by the JFK assassination, Minsk of course has a crucial role. I'm told that its Metro is the most spectacular in the former Soviet Union, outclassing Moscow's.

The words reported here are those of the speakers. But Alexievich weaves them together to form a coherent image of a country whose vitals were poisoned over one weekend in 1986, whose people weren't told then and haven't been told now what was really going on – massive sacrifices made in human terms, but for what benefit, if any? Nuclear physicists and experts are interviewed, but more to get the human side of their story rather than to delve into the technical aspects of what went wrong and how it could have been prevented or the effects ameliorated.

Chernobyl was a massive industrial accident, and I think it makes most sense to look at it in that way – a tech-obsessed totalitarian system, already living on borrowed time, unable to bridge the gap between the politically driven needs of the industrial-technological compex and the existential needs of its own citizens. Alexievich concentrates on this human story, rather than drawing wider conclusions about nuclear power. I would observe that even on the most extravagant estimates of the effects of Chernobyl, more people were killed in Bhopal, or in the Great London Smog, never mind the Banqiao Dam disaster of 1975. (And the overall toll to human health and world climate from the fossil fuel industry over the centuries is clearly massive.) Read the book for what it is – but do read it.

This was the most popular non-fiction book on my shelves. While reading it I acquired Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates, which immediately became the next on that list.

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Interesting Links for 10-08-2016

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Holes, by Louis Sachar

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Stanley was sitting about ten rows back, handcuffed to his armrest. His backpack lay on the seat next to him. It contained his toothbrush, toothpaste, and a box of stationery his mother had given him. He’d promised to write to her at least once a week.

This is apparently a classic of recent vintage, having won the 1998 U.S. National Book Award for Young People’s Literature and the 1999 Newbery Medal. I must say I’m not at all convinced that it will have the staying power of, say, A Wrinkle In Time. It’s a sweet story about a 14-year-old who is found guilty of a crime he didn’t commit, and finds himself incidentally righting ancient family wrongs while carrying out his sentence of digging holes in a dried lake bed. You won’t learn much about the American penal system, Latvia, or geology from this; you’ll probably be mildly entertained.

This was the most popular book on my shelves that I have not reviewed online. Next on that list is A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, by James Joyce.

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Galileo’s Dream, by Kim Stanley Robinson

Second paragraph of third chapter:

It was indeed the stranger, tall and gaunt in a black cloak. Behind him hunched a short, gnarled old man, carrying a leather satchel over one shoulder.

I enjoyed this more than any of KSR’s books since The Years of Rice and Salt, with which it shares a fascination for the history of science. However, in this case we have not one alternate timeline, but two different epochs: the real historical life of Galileo Galilei as he first turns his telescope to the skies and gets into trouble with the church, and a far-future civilisation in Jupiter orbit that summons him to participate in their parties and plots, while also trying to preserve him from the awful fate that threatens him. I found the retelling of the much-retold story of Galileo’s life and tribulations very effective, though perhaps running out of steam towards the end. I didn’t get as much out of the far future narrative, where I found the means and motivation of the main characters more difficult to grasp. I still liked it more than Forty Signs of Rain, 2312 or Aurora. Galileo’s Dream was on the 2010 shortlist for the Clarke Award, but was beaten by The City & The City. Fair enough.

This was the most popular unread book I acquired in 2010. Next on that list is Cauldron, by Jack McDevitt.

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The 2016 #HugoAwards: How (some more) bloggers are voting

An update to my previous post, surveying the 2016 Hugo votes in viction categories published by bloggers. I think that one of the categories has a very clear winner. It's also clear that there is a serious Rabid Puppy attempt to generate a block vote, with two other bloggers (and who knows how many others) following the lead set by Vox Day (whose post I missed in my previous roundup).

Best Short Story

"Cat Pictures Please" has extended its lead, with literally twice as many votes as the rest combined.

“Cat Pictures Please” by Naomi Kritzer: 19½ Sue Burke, Didi Chanoch, Mark Ciocco, Jonathan Edelstein, Peter Enyeart, Camestros Felapton, Andrew Hickey, Rich Horton, JL Jamieson, Rachel Neumeier, ½Kate Paulk, Doctor Science, Joe Sherry, John Snead, The Weasel King, Marco Zennaro, Lise Andreasen, Charon Dunn, Ethan Mills, Aaron Pound
No Award: 6 Bonnie McDaniel, Timo Pietilä, Solitair, Nicholas Whyte, Lori Ramey, Christina Vasilevski
Space Raptor Butt Invasion by Chuck Tingle: 3 John C. Wright, Vox Day, Didact
“Asymmetrical Warfare” by S. R. Algernon: 1 Doris Sutherland
“Seven Kill Tiger” by Charles Shao: ½ ½Kate Paulk
“If You Were an Award, My Love” by Juan Tabo and S. Harris: 0

Best Novelette

"Obits" has overtaken "And You Shall Know Her by the Trail of Dead" for second place, partly due to the Puppy vote.

“Folding Beijing” by Hao Jingfang, trans. Ken Liu: 14½ Liz Barr, ½Sue Burke, Jonathan Edelstein, Camestros Felapton, Rich Horton, Timo Pietilä, Doctor Science, John Snead, Solitair, Doris Sutherland, Nicholas Whyte, Lise Andreasen, Liz Barr, Ethan Mills
“Obits” by Stephen King: 8 Mark Ciocco, Kate Paulk, Joe Sherry, John C. Wright, Vox Day, Didact, Charon Dunn, Lori Ramey
“And You Shall Know Her by the Trail of Dead” by Brooke Bolander: 7½ ½Sue Burke, Didi Chanoch, Peter Enyeart, Bonnie McDaniel, Rachel Neumeier, Steph Bianchini, Christina Vasilevski, Marc Zennaro
No Award: 1 Andrew Hickey
“Flashpoint: Titan” by Cheah Kai Wai: 0
“What Price Humanity?” by David VanDyke: 0

Best Novella

Binti has extended its lead as well, but Penric's Demon has a good second place (with Puppy help).

Binti by Nnedi Okorafor: 15 Didi Chanoch, Camestros Felapton, Chris Gerrib, JL Jamieson, Bonnie McDaniel, Doctor Science, Joe Sherry, John Snead, Solitair, Marco Zennaro, Charon Dunn, Ethan Mills, Lori Ramey, Doris Sutherland, Christina Vasilevski
Penric’s Demon by Lois McMaster Bujold: 8 Jonathan Edelstein, Rich Horton, Rachel Neumeier, Nicholas Whyte, John C. Wright, Mark Ciocco, Vox Day, Didact
Perfect State by Brandon Sanderson: 4 Peter Enyeart, Timo Pietilä, David Steffen, Lise Andreasen
Slow Bullets by Alastair Reynolds: 2 Sue Burke, Kate Paulk
The Builders by Daniel Polansky: 0

Best Novel

Brandon Kempner predicts that Uprooted will win. It also has Puppy support. However, The Fifth Season has extended its lead in my survey. Down the table, Seveneves has overtake Ancillary Mercy for third place.

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin: 10⅓ Didi Chanoch, Jonathan Edelstein, Camestros Felapton, Daniel Goldsmith, Bonnie McDaniel, Joe Sherry, Marco Zennaro, Eric Franklin, Ethan Mills, Lori Ramey, Doris Sutherland, Christina Vasilevski
Uprooted by Naomi Novik: 6⅓ Didi Chanoch, Roger McCray, John Snead, John C. Wright, Vox Day, Didact, Kate Paulk
Seveneves by Neal Stephenson: 4 Chris Gerrib, Rachel Neumeier, Mark Ciocco, Charon Dunn
Ancillary Mercy by Ann Leckie: 3⅓ Didi Chanoch, The Weasel King, Nicholas Whyte, Peter Enyeart
The Cinder Spires: The Aeronaut’s Windlass by Jim Butcher: 0

Unfortunately I'll be on the road from Thursday to Sunday next week, so I probably won't be able to post my usual instant analysis of Hugo and Retro-Hugo results. Y'all have fun with out me, you hear?

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Interesting Links for 08-08-2016

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A Delicate Truth, by John le Carré

Second paragraph of third chapter:

“They was up here, bold as brass, on Manor parkland, the exact same spot they was last time, proud of that clump of old pines.”

I read a lot of John Le Carré as a teenager and in my early twenties; it was quite good preparation for the work I subsequently went on to do, though more in terms of preparing myself to meet the mindset of those who think they are doing their best for their country and find themselves questioning their own motivation. I suspect that his portrayal of inner Cold War circles in London, Bonn and elsewhere rang true for those who were there at the time. It is probably fifteen years since I last read one of his novels (I don’t seem to have blogged any of them here).

I’m sorry to say that I felt that A Delicate Truth missed the target. It’s a story about loyal upper middle class chaps who find that they are able to blow open a fatally bungled New Labour security mission in Gibraltar, and eventually do so. The upper middle class chaps seemed to me rather too noble in their motivations; the non-middle class characters were there for comic relief or moral lessons; more particularly, the Foreign Office as portrayed here is the powerful intellectual machine of former years, not the hollowed-out, demoralised institution I know today, that has now had the ultimate double humiliation of its most important tasks being given to newly invented ministries and then Boris Johnson being put in charge of the rest. Also, coming from where I do, it’s odd not to see any reference to previous controversial Gibraltar events. The author is now well into his 80s, so it’s understandable that he may be losing his touch; I should revisit some of the classics of earlier years.

This was the top remaining non-sff fiction book recommended by you guys at the end of last year. Next on that list is Even Dogs in the Wild, by Ian Rankin.

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