BSFA Long List – Goodreads/LibraryThing stats

The BSFA long list is out. As I'm this year's Hugo Administrator, I will make no comment here beyond posting the stats. Books listed by (geometric) average of GR/LT rating. The top ten in each column are in bold.

Goodreads LibraryThing
owners av rating owners av rating
Naomi Novik Spinning Silver 105622 4.31 700 4.27
Stuart Turton The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle 108267 4.03 552 3.87
Pierce Brown Iron Gold 88775 4.25 286 3.94
RF Kuang The Poppy War 69835 4.06 339 3.96
Becky Chambers Record of a Spaceborn Few 27709 4.2 312 4.21
Ling Ma Severance 37440 3.9 201 3.97
Mary Robinette Kowal The Calculating Stars 24374 4.24 263 4.12
Tade Thompson Rosewater 18267 3.89 168 3.88
Sam J Miller Blackfish City 17201 3.61 170 3.37
Tasha Suri Empire of Sand 15979 3.93 105 3.87
Patrick Ness And the Ocean Was Our Sky 13513 3.68 115 3.45
Peter Watts The Freeze-Frame Revolution 9556 4.04 110 3.98
Yoon Ha Lee Revenant Gun 6624 4.22 136 4.16
Alastair Reynolds Elysium Fire 7101 4.06 110 3.72
Sam Hawke City of Lies 7656 3.9 69 3.88
Gareth L Powell Embers of War 4205 4.02 61 3.62
Emma Newman Before Mars 3265 4.09 69 4.08
T Kingfisher The Wonder Engine 2359 4.37 54 4.18
Audrey Schulman Theory of Bastards 2824 4.11 36 4
Aliette de Bodard In the Vanishers’ Palace 2187 4.02 37 4.08
Roger Levy The Rig 1626 3.84 27 4.25
Rich Larson Annex 1795 3.71 24 3.67
Ed McDonald Ravencry 1936 4.31 21 3.83
EJ Swift Paris Adrift 1754 3.55 23 3.1
Derek Künsken The Quantum Magician 1372 4.15 28 3.9
James Smythe I Still Dream 1550 4.01 21 4.5
Malka Older State Tectonics 993 4.15 24 3.63
RJ Barker Blood of Assassins 1531 4.17 13 3.75
Juno Dawson Doctor Who: The Good Doctor 591 4.01 20 5
Jen Williams The Bitter Twins 913 4.32 10 4.88
Dave Hutchinson Europe at Dawn 261 4.25 30 4.17
Anna Stephens Darksoul 640 4.42 10
Rachel Armstrong Origamy 187 3.68 28 1.9
EM Brown Buying Time 423 3.77 12 3.5
Christopher Priest An American Story 323 3.65 14 3.75
Simon Ings The Smoke 429 3.89 10 3.5
Daniel Godfrey The Synapse Sequence 318 3.73 7 3
Adam Roberts By the Pricking of Her Thumb 195 3.9 11 4.5
Dominic Dulley Shattermoon 175 3.9 7
Rachel Fellman The Breath of the Sun 115 4.45 5
Andrew Crumey The Great Chain Of Unbeing 52 3.77 5 4.5
Aliya Whiteley The Loosening Skin 136 4.3 1
Andrew Bannister Stone Clock 34 4.1 2 4
Berit Ellingsen Now We Can See the Moon 39 4.63 1
Elizabeth Priest Concrete Faery 16 4 1

Last year's finalists were 3rd, 9th, 27th and 35th out of 48finalists similarly ranked 9th, 23rd, 26th, 28th and 29th out of 34., and the 2015 finalists were 18th, 21st, 26th, 40th and 43rd out of 56. So this isn't a very good guide to who will get shortlisted or win, but it is an indication of wider reading tastes.

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Tuesday reading

New year, so new day for my weekly reading blog.

Current
The Year's Best Science Fiction & Fantasy, 2010 Edition, ed. Rich Horton
Heartspell, by Blaine Anderson
The Time Lord Letters, by Justin Richards
From Here To Eternity, by James Jones

Last books finished
Milkman, by Anna Burns

Next books
Saga Volume 9, by Brian K Vaughan and Fiona Staples
"The Queen of Air and Darkness", by Poul Anderson

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  • Tue, 10:45: RT @CER_Grant: 30 months after the UK referendum, what conclusions can we draw about Brexit in particular and the process of trying to quit…
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Social media hygiene: a Twitter unblocking amnesty (with thanks to @luca)

The New Year is a time to look at things you are doing and assess whether or not they have worked. Over the last few years, particularly when the culture wars around Gamergate and the Hugos were at their peak in 2014-15, I subscribed to several of the various Twitter block lists, assuming that it would keep malevolent types off my time line. I very much defend the right of anyone to block whoever they want – as someone else said on Twitter recently:

However, I've been noticing that I am finding interesting material in accounts that I had somehow blocked, and have no memory of blocking. Perhaps the block lists are too big and all-embracing to be useful for me. I therefore decided that I would do a New Year amnesty and unblock absolutely everyone, and anyone who is very annoying to me in future can be muted (and anyone who is really very annoying can still be blocked).

So I went to the list of Twitter accounts I have blocked, and spent an idle hour or so clicking on the "unblock" button beside each name. But it became uneasily clear to me that this was not having a terribly rapid effect. There seemed no end in sight. Eventually I clicked on the "Advanced options – export your list" option on the page. It downloaded a surprisingly large number of files listing accounts that I had blocked. I was astonished when I looked at the files and realised that each of them contained 5000 blocked Twitter accounts. 5000 times a surprisingly large number is a very large number indeed.

Well, I'm glad to say that I found this page explaining how to deal with the problem. Basically you have to go to the list of blocked Twitter accounts, open up the developer tools consolde by pressing F12, open up the browser console by pressing Esc, and then enter the following three commands:

var autoScroll = setInterval(() => window.scrollTo(0, document.body.scrollHeight),1000);

This starts scrolling automatically through the list of blocked accounts – and if you have many thousands, as I did, you'll probably want to take several runs at this process. The tab need to be the active one in your browser window (you can have other browser windows open, and it still works). When you think you have enough blocked accounts on the screen, then enter this:

clearInterval(autoScroll)

That stops the scrolling. Then, to click the "Unblock" button on on each of the displayed accounts, enter:

$('.user-actions-follow-button').click()

And it takes a while – not as long as the first phase – but you get all of the displayed accounts unblocked. (Be careful not to enter that command twice – if you do, you end up following them!)

It's going to take me several days to go through the process, and no doubt I will have to do some tidying up if people who I had blocked for cause try and interact with me again. But I was astonished to realise that several big media outlets, and some fairly innocuous political figures and commentators, had ended up on my block list. In the end I can choose how to engage, and I choose to go for a bit more openness. (Though firmly operating a one-strike-and-you're-blocked policy.)

Incidentally I discovered that I am on seven blocklists myself

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The Fate of Rome: Climate, Disease and the End of an Empire, by Kyle Harper

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Aristides had come to Rome, much as Galen would a generation later, an aspiring young provincial ready to try his fortunes on the grandest stage. He had been preparing his entire life. A son of the gentry, Aristides had been tutored throughout his youth by a celebrity cast of rhetorical teachers. After his father’s death, Aristides had cruised the Nile, the ultimate Grand Tour. He failed to discover its exotic headwaters, but acquired a stock of colorful experiences he could recycle for a lifetime. Shortly after, he ventured to the capital. He journeyed west by land, along the Via Egnatia, the great Roman highway cutting through the Balkans. On the way, he contracted a nagging cold that turned violent, worsened by the dreary weather and the swampy landscape. He struggled to eat, and breathing became laborious. “I was very worried about my teeth falling out, so that I was always holding up my hands to catch them.” The fevers struck, and by the time he reached Rome, “there was not any hope even for my survival.” When Aristides delivered the “Roman Oration”, he lifted himself off what he thought was his deathbed.¹
¹ Nile: Aelius Aristides, Or. 36. Sickness: 48.62-63, tr. Behr. On Aristides in general: Downie 2013; Israelowitch 2012; the essays in Harris and Holmes 2008; Bowerstock 1969; Behr 1968.

As it turned out, this was the last book I finished in 2018; a very thought-provoking study of the natural causes behind the collapse of the Roman Empire, which he describes as the biggest economic reverse suffered by any region of the world in human history (though surely the destruction of the pre-colonisation Americas must come pretty close).

Harper goes in detail into the two big factors to which he attributes the fall of Rome: climate change and pandemic. The initial growth of the Roman Empire took place at a moment when the Mediterranean was unusually warm and wet by the standards of the last few thousand years. When the climate started shifting – not for anthropogenic reasons, just from the natural shift of orbits and sunspots – crops optimised for the previous situation did not do as well, and also shifting populations (both of humans and of animals) meant that new diseases had new populations to devastate.

He identifies three big pandemics which devastated the Roman Empire – the Antonine plague of 165, the plague of Cyprian in 249, and Justinian’s plague in 541. The first of these was probably related to smallpox, the second is uncertain and the third was definitely bubonic plague in its first major European manifestation. Unhealthy Roman urbanisation made it all worse. So did a major volcanic eruption in 536, the “year without a summer” – the volcano in question has not been identified, but the effects are clear. The 6th century plague was proportionally at least as bad as the Black Death of the 14th century. He pulls in lots of contemporary observations, notably from Galen and Procopius.

It’s a good read, though slightly oddly organised in places, and marked down for poor monochrome maps which don’t always illustrate the points being made and also for GRRRRRRR endnotes. In particular, though Harper doesn’t put it in these terms, it’s an important corrective to Gibbon, who very much wanted to find a human political cause of the Decline and Fall. The human factor is not absent from Harper’s account, but the key point is that the most developed society is still vulnerable to the vicissitudes of climate change and disease – a lesson for us all. You can get it here.

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The War of the Worlds (1953)

This won the Retro Hugo for Best Dramatic Presentation for 1954 (awarded in 2004), beating “Duck Dodgers in the 24½th Century”, It Came from Outer Space, The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms and Invaders from Mars. It performs pretty respectably in the IMDB rankings, 8th and 11th on the two systems, with Roman Holiday and Peter Pan competing for the top two slots. I have not yet watched From Here To Eternity, that year's Oscar winner; oddly enough the only two 1953 films which I am sure that I previously seen are both French, Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot / Mr Hulot's Holiday and Le Salaire de la Peur / The Wages of Fear, which blew me away, so to speak. (On reflection, I must have seen Calamity Jane too.) The War of the Worlds was given a Special Achievement Oscar for Best Special Effects, but lost two competitive nominations (Best Film Editing and Best Sound Recording, both won by From Here To Eternity). Here is a trailer.

Well, this film is many things, but inclusive it ain't – the only non-white character who we see is the unfortunate Salvatore, supposedly Hispanic yet with a somewhat differentaccent, played by Jack Kruschen, who is one of the first three victims of the aliens:
And Ann Robinson's role as the female lead Sylvia van Buren is basically peril monkey to be rescued by our hero, with whom she is in lurve.
The actors are not required to do much more than demonstrate dismay and consternation.
The plot is somewhat adapted from H.G. Wells' novel. Most obviously, the action is in Southern California, not Surrey; and the aliens have sinister floating machines rather than tripods, this being cinematically easier to do (though you can still see the wires sometimes if you look). We also actually see one of the aliens.

But the desperate failure of humanity to do much that is effective in the face of the alien invader, and the aliens' eventual defeat by the bathos of ordinary bacteria, are true to Wells.

And look, this film is about spectacle and threat, and it does those very well indeed. The alien machines are particularly effective, both when they slowly emerge from their spaceships and when they start to lay waste to Los Angeles.

And the breakdown of organised humanity is very effectively portrayed, includnig the desperate seeking of hope in religion:

There's an effective early scene with Sylvia's minister uncle (played by Lewis Martin) attempting to communicate with the aliens (and getting exterminated for his pains):

And I must give fair props to Gene Barry as scientist-hero Clayton Forrester, clearly the inspiration for future geeky heroes in the first part of the film before becoming rugged man of action at the end.

So much of this fed into Doctor Who – the soldiers being disintegrated en masse very reminiscent of Robot, and there's a full-skeleton Dalek-style extermination as well.

Anyway, this was great fun to watch, and while nothing can ever quite have the impact of the Orson Welles radio version from fifteen years earlier, it fairly catches the spirit of the original novel, updated to Fifties California. You can get it here.
Next up is the first actual Hugo for Best Dramatic Presentation, The Incredible Shrinking Man (1958).

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  • Fri, 21:38: RT @vashti: The difference is that they’re using animal fat and you’re not. Cook them down in e.g. beef dripping and they caramelise in abo…
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  • Thu, 21:27: Hooray for @jennycolgan on Mastermind! Crushing the opposition with her brain!
  • Fri, 10:45: RT @davidallengreen: That the UK cannot leave the EU without a deal on 29 March because there is “no majority for it” is mistaken thinking…

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My books of 2018, and a poll

I read 262 books this year, the seventh highest of fourteen years that I have been keeping count, so squarely in the middle. (Full numbers: 238 in 2017, 212 in 2016, 290 in 2015, 291 in 2014, 237 in 2013, 259 in 2012, 301 in 2011, 278 in 2010, 342 in 2009, 374 in 2008, 235 in 2007, 207 in 2006, 137 in 2005). There were some pretty slow months when travel didn't quite allow for full enjoyment, but I've been getting back in the habit of reading rather than supping from the information firehose. Next year I'm on the Hugos again, but I hope it will eat less into my reading time than last year.

Page count for the year: 71,600 – again in the middle of the range, fifth highest of the eight years where I have kept count (60,500 in 2017; 62,300 in 2016; 80,100 in 2015; 97,100 in 2014; 67,000 in 2013; 77,800 in 2012; 88,200 in 2011)
Books by non-male writers in 2017: 102/262, 39% – a record high; not really sure why, though of course a lot of women did get Hugo nominations. (64/238 [27%] in 2017, 65 [31%] in 2016, 86 [30%] in 2015, 81 [28%] in 2014, 71 [30%] in 2013, 65 [25%] in 2012, 22% in 2011, 23% in 2010, 20% in 2009, 12% in 2008)
Books by PoC in 2017: 26/262, 10% – another record high, and the more diverse Hugos played a part here too. (17/238 [7%] in 2017, 14 [7%] in 2016, 20 [7%] in 2015, 11 [5%] in 2014, 12 [5%] in 2013, 5% in 2011, 9% in 2010, 5% in 2009, 2% in 2008)

Most books by a single author: Tove Jansson and Marcel Proust, both with 6 (previous winners: Colin Brake and Leo in 2017, Christopher Marlowe in 2016, Justin Richards in 2015 and 2014, Agatha Christie in 2013, Jonathan Gash in 2012, Arthur Conan Doyle in 2011, Ian Rankin in 2010, William Shakespeare in 2009 and 2008, Terrance Dicks in 2007, Ian Marter in 2006, Charles Stross in 2005).

NB that (almost) all book covers below link to Amazon.co.uk pages if you want to buy the book from them.

Science Fiction and Fantasy (excluding Doctor Who)

2018/ 2017/ 2016/ 2015/ 2014/ 2013/ 2012/ 2011/ 2010/ 2009/
108 68 80 130 124 65 62 78 73 78
41% 29% 38% 45% 43% 27% 24% 26% 26% 23%

A comparatively high total, thanks to two new Hugo categories and Retro Hugos as well.

Some very welcome re-reads (Gulliver's Travels, Snow Crash, Jonathan Hoag, the Moomin books).

My three top sff new reads:

3) Provenance, by Anne Leckie – not directly connected to her previous books, but a convincing story of politics and truth. Finalist for both BSFA and Hugo Awards, and I voted for it both times, though it did not win either.
2) In Other Lands, by Sarah Rees Brennan – one of the Hugo YA finalists, I thought this was a brilliant look at young wizardry with a bisexual protagonist.
1) The Sudden Appearance of Hope, by Clare North – increasingly one of my favourite authors, here with another tale of someone whose interaction with our world is very different, combined with a sinister Facebook-meets-Social-Credit Big Tech conspiracy.

The one you might not have heard of: Anne Charnock's novella The Enclave, another BSFA Award finalist, which I thought caught a lot of things about Brexit Britain very well.

The one to skip: Second-Stage Lensmen, by E.E. "Doc" Smith – turgid prose from the depths of the pulp era.

Non-sfnal fiction

2018/ 2017/ 2016/ 2015/ 2014/ 2013/ 2012/ 2011/ 2010/ 2009/
36 26 28 42 41 44 48 48 50 57
14% 11% 13% 14% 14% 19% 19% 16% 18% 18%

Lower than any year apart from the last two, as my various reading projects have prioritised other genres, particularly sff.

Again, some welcome rereads (Proust, Kavalier and Clay). My three top new books:

3) And The Mountains Echoed, by Khaled Hosseini – a generational tale of Afghanistan and other places which really worked for me.
2) Fingersmith, by Sarah Waters – Waters is my real discovery this year, and Iliked this most of the books by her which I read.
1) Moon Tiger, by Penelope Lively – really blown away by this twentieth-century life story, set mainly in England but with other excursions; I should probably read more by this author.

The one you haven't heard of: Something Like Normal, by Trish Doller – author is my twin (born the same day and year); this was her first novel, about a young American soldier returning fro the wars and finding it very difficult to fit in.

The one to skip: Five Escape Brexit Island, by Bruno Vincent – not so much a one-joke book as a no-joke book.

Non-fiction

2018/ 2017/ 2016/ 2015/ 2014/ 2013/ 2012/ 2011/ 2010/ 2009/
50 57 37 47 48 46 53 69 66 88
19% 24% 17% 16% 16% 19% 20% 23% 24% 26%

Very slightly but I think not significantly below average.

Top three non-fiction books of 2018:

equal 2) After Europe by Ivan Krastev, and Europe Reset: New Directions for the EU, by Richard Youngs – two takes on the future of the continent, one more pessimistic, one more optimistic, both thorough and also digestible.
1) The last book I fnished this year, and the best book I read all year: Factfulness, by Hans Rosling – a fantastic guide to what is really going on in the world, and how we can think about it more usefully, based just on facts.

The one you haven't heard of: Huawei Stories: Pioneers, ed. Tian Tao and Yin Zhifeng – fascinating stories of Chinese engineers encountering strange cultures, like Iceland, Italy and Africa.

The one to skip: Here’s My Card, by Bob Popyk, useless and outdated advice on networking.

Comics

2018/ 2017/ 2016/ 2015/ 2014/ 2013/ 2012/ 2011/ 2010/ 2009/
28 29 27 18 19 30 21 27 18 28
11% 12% 13% 6% 7% 13% 8% 9% 6% 8%

Much the same as the last couple of years.

Top three comics of my year:

3) Saga vol 7, by Fiona Staples and Brian K. Vaughan – I've been following the series faithfully since the beginning, and I felt that this installment seemed to pick up a bit more dark energy.
2) My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, by Emil Ferris – was a Hugo finalist; I didn't think it was actually sf, but I did think it was remarkably good – a story of a little girl in Chicago who discovers more than she really wanted to know about her upstairs neighbour.
1) Weapons of Mass Diplomacy / Quai d'Orsay, by "Abel Lanzac" (Antonin Baudry) and Christophe Blain – brilliant insight into the top levels of diplomacy, which I am recommending to everyone at work.

The one you may not heard of: Ergens Waar Je Niet Wil Zijn / The Wrong Place by Brecht Evens – vivid evocation of two Flemish chaps whose relationship is not exactly what either of them think it is, played out against a background of suburbia, disco and sex.

The one to skip: Dark Satanic Mills, by Marcus Sedgwick – confused near-future English dystopia trying to riff off William Blake and not really succeeding.

Doctor Who (and spinoff) fiction

2018/ 2017/ 2016/ 2015/ 2014/ 2013/ 2012/ 2011/ 2010/ 2009/
32 51 39 43 59 72 75 80 71 70
12% 21% 18% 15% 20% 30% 29% 27% 26% 19%

A historic low here, basically because I have now read almost all of the Doctor Who books that there are to read. Having said that, the above figure excludes 7 non-fiction books and 4 comics which could have been counted in this category, several of which which I am including in my top three etc below.

3) Outside In: 160 New Perspectives on 160 Classic Doctor Who Stories, by 160 Writers, ed. Robert Smith? – much more insightful than the average survey of Doctor Who stories written by a single person or team, includes my brother.
2) A History of the Universe in 100 Objects, by Steve Tribe and James Goss – a gorgeous book looking at internal Who mythology but also drawing linkes bwteen stories in Old and New Who.
1) The Day of the Doctor, by Steven Moffat – the climax of the Moffat era in novel form, telling the story of the anniversary special in an unusual way, incidentally canonicalising the Peter Cushing movies. I hope that future novelisations can aspire to be this good.

The one you may have forgotten about: Time Lord: Create your own adventures in time and space, by Ian Marsh and Peter Darvill-Evans – the 1991 Doctor Who role-playing game.

The one you can skip: The Doctor Who Quiz Book of Dinosaurs, by Michael Holt – an obscure Fifth Doctor era kids spinoff, which contains surprisingly little information about dinosaurs.

Plays

Only four this year. Hamlet, by William Shakespeare, is the best of course, but was not new. You Can't Take It with You, by Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman, is very entertaining. Everybody Comes to Rick’s, by Murray Burnett and Joan Alison, is not as bad as people say. Those three were all adapted to Oscar-winning films. I completely bounced off Le Mariage de Figaro, by Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais.

Poetry

Great to rediscover Virgil's Æneid, in two different translations, plus Heaney's Book VI. Unexpected discovery: Glory of Me, an epic poem by MacKinlay Kantor, about demobbed US servicemen from the second world war. (Note also: Now We Are Six Hundred, by James Goss with illustrations by Russell T. Davies.)

B1740B99-C1B3-43A3-81C1-2229B57DB6AE.jpeg 14D75143-519B-46E1-9483-952BC8EC226D.jpeg 2A7B0B25-CA6A-4807-BDD3-CCF227FFAB0B.jpeg

Finally, which of the 262 books I read this year have you read? You should be able to take this poll using your Facebook and/or Twitter account, even if you don't have a Livejournal account. Except for the last category, they are arranged in order of popularity on LibraryThing.

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Monday and December reading wrap-up

Monday Reading

Current
The Year's Best Science Fiction & Fantasy, 2010 Edition, ed. Rich Horton
Heartspell, by Blaine Anderson

Last books finished
Finding Time Again, by Marcel Proust
Ergens Waar Je Niet Wilt Zijn, by Brecht Evens
Freddie Mercury: An Illustrated Biography, by Mark Blake
Factfulness, by Hans Rosling
The Fate of Rome, by Kyle Harper

December Books

Non-fiction: 4 (2018 total 50)
Outside In: 160 New Perspectives on 160 Classic Doctor Who Stories by 160 Writers, ed. Robert Smith?
Freddie Mercury: An Illustrated Life, by Mark Blake
Factfulness, by Hans Rosling
The Fate of Rome, by Kyle Harper

Fiction (non-sf): 4 (2018 total 36)
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, by Michael Chabon
Delta of Venus, by Anaïs Nin
The Name of This Book Is Secret, by Pseudonymous Bosch
Finding Time Again, by Marcel Proust

Theatre: 0 (2018 total 4)

Poetry: 0 (2018 total 4)

sf (non-Who): 3 (2018 total 108)
Fools, by Pat Cadigan
Destination Moon and Shooting Destination Moon, by Robert A. Heinlein
Perilous Dreams, by Andre Norton

Doctor Who, etc: 0 (2018 total 32)

Comics: 3 (2018 total 28)
Saga, vol. 8, by Fiona Staples and Brian K. Vaughan
A Cold Day in Hell, ed. Tom Spilsbury
Ergens Waar Je Niet Wilt Zijn, by Brecht Evens

~4,200 pages (YTD ~71,600)
4/14 (YTD 102/262) by non-male writers (Nin, Cadigan, Norton, Staples)
1/14 (YTD 26/262) by PoC (Staples)
2/14 (YTD 24/262) reread (The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, Finding Time Again)

Reading now
The Year's Best Science Fiction & Fantasy, 2010 Edition, ed. Rich Horton
Heartspell, by Blaine Anderson

Coming soon (perhaps):
Saga Volume 9
, by Brian K Vaughan and Fiona Staples
"The Queen of Air and Darkness", by Poul Anderson
Tales from Moominvalley. by Tove Jansson
Lambik by Marc Legendre
Avalanche Soldier, by Susan Matthews
The White Tiger, by Aravind Adiga
Fanny Hill, by John Cleland
Candide, by Voltaire
The World of Poo, by Terry Pratchett
Bitter Angels, by C. L. Anderson
The Life of Sir Denis Henry, by A.D. McDonnell
The Secret Lives of Garden Birds, by Dominic Couzens
A Little Life, by Hanya Yanagihara
Daniel Deronda, by George Eliot
The Botany of Desire, by Michael Pollan
Feersum Endjinn, by Iain M Banks
The Ginger Man, by J. P. Donleavy
Nebula Awards Showcase 2011, ed. Kevin J. Anderson
In Another Light, by Andrew Greig
Stepping Stones: Interviews with Seamus Heaney, by Dennis O'Driscoll

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Factfulness, by Hans Rosling

Second paragraph of third chapter:

The researchers had collected all the Ebola data since the start of the epidemic and used it to calculate the expected number of new cases per day up to the end of October. They showed, for the first time, that the number of cases was not just increasing along a straight line: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Instead, the number was doubling like this: 1, 2, 4, 8, 16. Each infected person was infecting, on average, two more people before dying. As a result, the number of new cases per day was doubling every three weeks. The graph showed how enormous the outbreak would soon become if each infected person kept infecting two more. Doubling is scary!

I was a huge fan of the videos of Hans Rosling, who died in March 2017; and I write as one who generally hates vlogging (even though I have indulged in it myself occasionally). In Factfulness, the book he rushed to complete with his son and daughter-in-law when he learned he was dying, he calls on us all to engage critically with news stories and perceptions about the world – particularly about the state of humanity as a whole, most of all the developing economies. The concept of ‘Factfulness’, clearly intended as a close relative of mindfulness, is defined as :

the stress-reducing habvit of only carrying opinions for which you have strong supporting facts.

He repeatedly makes the effective point that most people – including the rich, privileged and well-informed – perform less well on a basic test about the state of the world than would a chimpanzee selecting answers at random.

If I can boil it down, his first key message is that things are better than they were, but that should not deter us from making them better still. In particular, humanity is healthier, more prosperous, safer and more peaceful than it has ever been, and the greatest improvements have been made in countries which were desperately poor decades ago and have caught up since. BUT, his second key message is that news reports naturally concentrate on the drama of failure and crisis, so it’s easy to get the impression that the world is going to hell; improvements are generally gradual (not always – there is the striking case of the recent decrease in birthrate in Iran, for instance, which of course received no international media coverage) while disasters, epidemics and wars fit the news cycle. HOWEVER, thirdly there is a real climate crisis, but we must be careful not to exaggerate it; the facts themselves are worrying enough, without resorting to worst-case scenarios or irrelevant issues (and he has plenty of cites for those).

I find this all very attractive. If we are looking for a framework to push back against fake news, Rosling’s fact-based approach is a very good place to start. but also, if we are trying to get to grips with crises (of which climate change is clearly the most drastic), it’s very helpful to be able to point to the progress that has already been made as well as the further steps that are demanded. Certainly I find it easier to be motivated by the thought of building on previous good work than the notion of crusading against an inevitable fate.

Rosling’s skill at visual and verbal presentation is very sadly missed. Here are several of his shorter videos, and here are several of the longer ones by him and colleagues. I found it very difficult to choose just one as illustrative, but here’s his TED talk in Qatar on the relationship between religion and fertility rates. (Spoiler: he doesn’t think there is much of one.)

Highly recommended. You can get it here.

This was my top unread non-fiction book. Next on that pile is The Botany of Desire, by Michael Pollan.

Freddie Mercury: An Illustrated Biography, by Mark Blake

Second paragraph of third chapter:

A few entries earlier, though, [in Roger Taylor’s April 1970 diary] the group was considering another name, Build Your Own Boat, for which Roger had designed a logo. The drummer shook his head at the memory. ‘Thank God that idea was abandoned.’

A kind relative, having seen my review of Bohemian Rhapsody, decided that I needed this for Christmas, and she was right. It’s not terribly deep – a 200-page survey of Freddie Mercury’s life and career, lavishly illustrated, doesn’t have a lot of space to get into profound analysis of what he and his colleagues were trying to achieve with their music, but to Blake’s credit he doesn’t pretend to be doing anything more than running through the high points (and low points) and giving a few pointers to what else was going on. And the pictures are gorgeous; the camera loved him, and even in the snapshots of his pre-fame personality he rather glows.

The book’s account of Farookh Bulsara’s childhood was pretty interesting. The whole world knows that he was a brought up as a Zoroastrian in Zanzibar; it was news to me that he had attended boarding school in India (demonstrating yet again that the Indian Ocean is a corridor, not a barrier), and then when the family moved to London, their new home was not quite two km from the hotel where we held the most recent 2019 Worldcon planning meeting. I never came close to seeing him live, though some people I knew the summer I worked in Germany did go to the 1986 Mannheim concert (and complained about it, and I have to agree that in the footage his voice is clearly under strain).

Anyway, if I wanted to find out more about his life and work, I’m sure there are more comprehensive sources; this pretty much scratched my itch, and entertained me with the photographs as well. You can get it here.

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Ergens waar je niet wil zijn (The Wrong Place), by Brecht Evens

Second frame of third section (Gert's new boss is explaining the school philosophy to him):


School principal: I believe that in this school we are doing a reasonable job of preparing* the boys and girls for the challenges of the adult world.
They are sweet children, most of them anyway… You know how it is at that age, you're finding out where the boundaries are, and at first they'll try and see what you will let them get away with. You just have to show them that there are limits.
* The verb "klaarstomen" actually implies much more energy than the simple English “to prepare”, suggesting that the preparations are steam-powered. It is mainly used in edcuational contexts, sometimes as an equivalent of "to cram", but that would not have been correct here.

This won the first Willy Vandersteen Prize for the best Dutch-language comic of the previous two years (annual since 2014). It also won a Prix de l'Audace at the Angoulême International Comics Festival, and an Eisner nomination (for Best Painter/Multimedia Artist (interior art), in 2011). I thought it was really good.

It's a story in three parts. First, Gert throws a party in his attic apartment; all his old friends have come in the hope of catching up with Robbie, the most popular chap in the class. Lots of views of stilted conversation through the empty chair where Robbie is not sitting. In the second part, Robbie works his charm on lonely Noemie, who casts her inhibitions aside for some wild sex with him. And thirdly, Gert catches up with Robbie after checking in grayly and anonymously for his new job as a school administrator, and their relationship is laid much more open to us as readers than to them as characters. Robbie's favourite night club, Disco Harem, lurks in the anecdotes told by guests in the first part, and is the setting for most of the second and third parts; it is lushly realised and almost qualifies as a character on its own.

The extraordinarily expressive watercolour art (see here for some sample frames) is what puts this album a cut above the usual Flemish reality comic (which I tend to enjoy anyway). Here are the guests filing up the stairs to Gert's party, for instance:

And the graphic story medium, done well as it is here, can catch nuances of characterisation that the printed page cannot (look for instance at the faceless silhouette of the principal as he talks to Gert). I strongly recommend this. You can get it in Dutch here and in English here.

I may try and read the other Vandersteen Prize winners. Amoras vol 5: Wiske is on my list anyway as I have been working through that series. Unfortunately the 2011 winner, Terug naar Johan, by Michiel van de Pol, seems to be out of print.

Finding Time Again, by Marcel Proust

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Ma longue absence de Paris n’avait pas empêché d’anciens amis à continuer, comme mon nom restait sur leurs listes, à m’envoyer fidèlement des invitations, et quand j’en trouvai, en rentrant — avec une pour un goûter donné par la Berma en l’honneur de sa fille et de son gendre — une autre pour une matinée qui devait avoir lieu le lendemain chez le prince de Guermantes, les tristes réflexions que j’avais faites dans le train ne furent pas un des moindres motifs qui me conseillèrent de m’y rendre. Ce n’était vraiment pas la peine de me priver de mener la vie de l’homme du monde, m’étais-je dit, puisque le fameux « travail » auquel depuis si longtemps j’espère chaque jour me mettre le lendemain, je ne suis pas ou plus fait pour lui, et que peut-être même il ne correspond à aucune réalité. À vrai dire, cette raison était toute négative et ôtait simplement leur valeur à celles qui auraient pu me détourner de ce concert mondain. Mais celle qui m’y fit aller fut ce nom de Guermantes, depuis assez longtemps sorti de mon esprit pour que, lu sur la carte d’invitation, il réveillât un rayon de mon attention, allât prélever au fond de ma mémoire une coupe de leur passé, accompagné de toutes les images de forêt domaniale ou de hautes fleurs qui l’escortaient alors, et pour qu’il reprît pour moi le charme et la signification que je lui trouvais à Combray quand passant, avant de rentrer, dans la rue de l’Oiseau, je voyais du dehors, comme une laque obscure, le vitrail de Gilbert le Mauvais, sire de Guermantes. Pour un moment les Guermantes m’avaient semblé de nouveau entièrement différents des gens du monde, incomparables avec eux, avec tout être vivant, fût-il souverain ; ils me réapparaissaient comme des êtres issus de la fécondation de cet air aigre et vertueux de cette sombre ville de Combray où s’était passée mon enfance et du passé qu’on y apercevait dans la petite rue, à la hauteur du vitrail. J’avais eu envie d’aller chez les Guermantes comme si cela avait dû me rapprocher de mon enfance et des profondeurs de ma mémoire où je l’apercevais. Et j’avais continué à relire l’invitation jusqu’au moment où, révoltées, les lettres qui composaient ce nom si familier et si mystérieux, comme celui même de Combray, eussent repris leur indépendance et eussent dessiné devant mes yeux fatigués comme un nom que je ne connaissais pas. My name being still on their lists, my long absence from Paris had not prevented old friends from continuing faithfully to send me invitations, and when upon my return I found, alongside one to a tea-party given for her daughter and son-in-law by La Berma, another for an afternoon reception to be held the following day at the house of the Prince de Guermantes, the melancholy reflections that had assailed me in the train were not the least of the motives advising me to go there. There is really no point in depriving myself of the life of a man of the world, I told myself, since the famous 'work' which I have so long hoped each day to begin the next day, is one that I am not, or am no longer, fitted to, and perhaps corresponds to no reality whatever. In fact this reasoning was entirely negative, and simply removed the value of the counter-arguments which might have put me off going to this society concert. The real reason I decided to go was the Guermantes name, for so long out of my mind that when I read it on the invitation card it re-awakened a ray of my attention which was to lift from the depths of my memory a section of their past, accompanied by all the images of seigneurial forest and tall flowers which had then accompanied it, and took on again for me all the magic and significance which I used to find at Combray when, as I passed by on my way home, in the rue de I'Oiseau, I would see from outside, like dark lacquer, the stained-glass window dedicated to Gilbert the Bad, ancestor of the Guermantes. For a moment the Guermantes had once again seemed completely different from the rest of society, not to be compared with them or with any living being, even royalty, creatures sprung from the impregnation of the sour and windy air of the sombre town of Combray, where my childhood was spent, by the past, visible there in the narrow street, at the level of the stained-glass window. I had wanted to go to the Guermantes' house as if that might have been able to bring me closer to my childhood and to the depths of my memory in which I saw it. And I had continued to read and reread the invitation until the letters composing that name, at once so familiar and so mysterious, like that of Combray itself, rebelled, regained their independent life and reorganized themselves before my exhausted eyes into something like an unknown name.

When I first read this ten years ago, I wrote:

Well, I've done it: finished the final volume of the Penguin set of À la recherche du temps perdu, a year and a half after starting them. Like the previous one, I found the last volume very lucid and involving; I wonder if this is really the case, or just reflects my increasing comfort level with Proust's prose? It's quite a break with the previous volumes in some ways, chronicling the effects of the 1914-18 war on France, on Paris, on the places the narrator loves and on his social circle; then an accidental encounter with a gay brothel; then a fifty-page reflection on memory while the narrator walks upstairs from the courtyard to the Guermantes' party; then further meditations on age, on death, on what has happened in the previous volumes and on what drives the narrator to write it all down and turn it into a book. It is very satisfying, and now I want to go back and read it all again (though I may read the Alain de Botton book first).

I read the six books in six months this time, and to be honest I feel that slightly rushed the job; it would have been a bit better to savour the whole experience. I agree with my earlier self that the last volume is very approachable – we still have endless parties, but the author has grown up and is working through what this means for life, and the closing pages are very reflexive indeed. Given this year's cenetenary commemorations, it's interesting to note how the first world war happens here as a change of background rather than a series of events (the death of Saint-Loup perhaps being the only specific war incident reported).

But now that I'm a bit more familiar with the great modernists than I was ten years ago, I am struck by the extent to which À la recherche du temps perdu is a diversion rather than a foundation for what came after (or at least what I have read of what came after). I'm glad to have read it (twice), but I don't think I'll do this again. You can get this volume here.

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A Cold Day in Hell, ed. Tom Spilsbury

Second frame of third story ("Crossroads of Time", written by Simon Furman, art by Geoff Senior):

(This frame is the first appearance of the Marvel character Death's Head outside its original environment in Transformers comics. In the story, the Doctor shrinks Death's head from its original giant size using the MAster's Tissue Compression Eliminator.)

This is a collection of the first eleven Seventh Doctor comic stories that ran in Doctor Who Magazine issues 130-150, from late 1987 to mid 1989. Four of the stories were written by Simon Furman, the others being by Mike Collins (scripting for a change), Grant Morrison, John Freeman, Dan Abnett, Richard Alan (actually DWM editor Richard Starkings) and John Carnell together, John Carnell on his own, and Alan Grant; five different artisis are credited for the second last story, "Follow That Tardis", a sort of jam session for Marvel UK, including Kev Hopgood, who is co-credited on two other stories (with different artists each time). It is all monochrome, which somehow I didn't expect.

Given the reputation of all of those involved, it's good solid stuff, though I found the representation of the Seventh Doctor himself a bit iffy. In the first story, the Doctor says farewell to Frobisher and acquires a non-human companion, who lasts only to the second story, and otherwise travels alone. Possibly the most fannish of the stories is "Planet of the Dead" by John Freeman with art by Lee Sullivan, where the Seventh Doctor encounters first Adric, Peri, Sara Kingdom and Katarina, and then his own previous incarnations. The one I liked most was the fairly understated "Culture Shock", by Grant Morrison with art by Bryan Hitch, in which a demotivated Doctor finds a renewed sense of purpose by helping an alien life form.

I confess that I haven't gone through the Panini comics collections very systematically, but theyare all of decent quality, and maybe I should. You can get it here.

This was my top unread comic; next on that list is Troll Bridge, by Neil Gaiman and Colleen Doran.

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Perilous Dreams, by Andre Norton

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Though she was not seated in an easirest which would automatically afford her slim body maximum comfort, she hoped she gave the woman facing her the impression she was entirely relaxed and certain of herself during their interview. That this . . . this Foostmam was stubborn was nothing new. Itlothis had been trained to handle both human and pseudohuman antagonism. But the situation itself baffled her and must not be allowed to continue so.

I’m sorry to say that I completely bounced off this Andre Norton novel, particularly disappointing given how much I enjoyed the Beast Master novels when I reread them a couple of months ago. Somehow I never quite got to grips with the setting or what was going on; it is about shared dreams and a dreamed reality, but I didn’t really understand it or get the characters sorted out in my head. Probably I was just too tired in the pre-Christmas rush. If you want, you can get it here.

This was my top unread book acquired in 2014. Next on that list is Terry Pratchett’s World of Poo.

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Delta of Venus, by Anaïs Nin

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Among them was a very dark-skinned Jesuit who had some Indian blood, the face of a satyr, large ears glued to his head, piercing eyes, a loose-lipped mouth that was always watering, thick hair and the smell of an animal. Under his long brown robe the boys had often noticed a bulge which the younger boys could not explain and which older boys laughed at behind his back. This bulge would appear unexpectedly at any hour—while the class read Don Quixote or Rabelais, or sometimes while he merely watched the boys, and one boy in particular, the only fair-haired one in all the school, with the eyes and skin of a girl.

Classic erotica short stories, varying quite a lot in length, subject matter and (frankly) appeal. The story of “Elena” takes up more than a quarter of the book; I actually found the following story, “The Basque and Bijou”, the most interesting as the two named characters try various things to different degrees of satisfaction. A lot of erotica is single-themed to the point of monotony; this certainly isn’t.

This was my top unread book acquired in 2016, my top unread book by a woman and my top unread non-genre fiction book. Next in the first two of those categories is A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara; my top unread non-genre fiction book is now Fanny Hill by John Cleland.

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