August Books 5) The Monsters and the Critics, by J.R.R. Tolkien

A man inherited a field in which was an accumulation of old stone, part of an older hall. Of the old stone some had already been used in building the house in which he actually lived, not far from the old house of his fathers. Of the rest he took some and built a tower. But his friends coming perceived at once (without troubling to climb the steps) that these stones had formerly belonged to a more ancient building. So they pushed the tower over, with no little labour, and in order to look for hidden carvings and inscriptions, or to discover whence the man’s distant forefathers had obtained their building material. Some suspecting a deposit of coal under the soil began to dig for it, and forgot even the stones. They all said: ‘This tower is most interesting.’ But they also said (after pushing it over): ‘What a muddle it is in!’ And even the man’s own descendants, who might have been expected to consider what he had been about, were heard to murmur: ‘He is such an odd fellow! Imagine using these old stones just to build a nonsensical tower! Why did not he restore the old house? he had no sense of proportion.’ But from the top of that tower the man had been able to look out upon the sea.

This is a collection of seven lectures by Tolkien, of which I think I had previously read only “On Fairy Stories” and “A Secret Vice”. As always, they are an interesting insight into how his mind worked, or at least how he wanted us to think it worked. The more academic pieces (in particular the second, “On Translating Beowulf”) are somewhat moored in academic controversies of their time, which may or may not have subsided by now and which in any case I am not close to. But the title piece rises above that to give an argument for appreciating Beowulf as a real story with serious monsters, rather than just a source for scholarly discussion on vaguely related topics, and that is the point made in the vivid metaphor of the man who built his tower on inherited land.

The other highlight for me, even as a non-Welsh speaker, is the lecture “English and Welsh” urging those with an interest in the history of the English language not to ignore its nearest geographical neighbour. He makes the same general point made much later by McWhorter, that English shares a significant substratum with Welsh (and he is very insistent that it is Welsh/British rather than the Goidelic languages), though interestingly uses a completely different set of linguistic/grammatical clues to McWhorter in making the argument. So there may well be something to it.

“On Fairy Stories” has quite a lot of information about Tolkien’s views of other works of fantasy literature, ancient and modern; it is a bit less successful at setting up an analytical framework for looking at fairy stories as a whole (Farah Mendlesohn seems to me to have a more useful and more widely applicable approach), but again he makes a convincing emotional appeal to treat the stories first and foremost as stories for an intended audience, rather than for anything else. His valedictory address, at the end of the book, is an amusing but somewhat rambling justification for wandering off the point for most of his career, but in fact a commitment to an aesthetic of narrative seems to have been precisely the point, one which he successfully communicated through both his fiction and his non-fiction.

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Wednesday Reading

Current:
Standing in Another Man's Grave
, by Ian Rankin
The Monsters and the Critics, by J.R.R. Tolkien
The History of the Hobbit, vol 1: Mr Baggins, by John D. Rateliff
Death on the Nile, by Agatha Christie
Proportional Representation in Ireland, by James Creed Meredith

Last books finished
[Doctor Who] The Wages of Sin, by David A. McIntee
Kraken, by China Mieville
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, by Agatha Christie

Next books
Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?, by Jeanette Winterson
Shakespeare's Planet, by Clifford D. Simak
Far North, by Sara Maitland
[Doctor Who] Shakedown, by Terrance Dicks

Books acquired in last week:
Death on the Nile
, by Agatha Christie
Dalek I Loved You (50th Anniversary edition), by Nick Griffiths
Dining With The Doctor, by Chris-Rachel Oseland
Who & Me, by Barry Letts
Tardis Eruditorum Vol. 2 – Patrick Troughton, by Philip Sandifer
VWORP!, by Earl Green
The Best of TARDIS Eruditorum, by Philip Sandifer

Here's One I Wrote Earlier, by Peter Purves
Blue Box Boy: A Memoir of Doctor Who in Four Episodes, by Matthew Waterhouse
Self Portrait: My Journey as an Actress, Wife and Mother in the Swinging Sixties, by Anneke Wills
The Big Finish Companion, Volume 1, by Richard Dinnick
The Big Finish Companion, Volume 2, by Kenny Smith

LT unread books tally: 436.

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August Books 4) Proportional Representation in Ireland, by James Creed Meredith

Under the single transferable vote system there is every inducement to vote for a crank, and he generally manages to amass a considerable number of late preferences. For most of us are cranks when probed as deep as a ninth or tenth preference.

James Creed Meredith is one of those neglected figures in Irish history who managed to play a important role in several fields of intellectual endeavour (including science fiction), as well as setting up the legal system of the nascent Irish state, ending his career as a member of the Supreme Court from 1937 to 1942. In 1913, he turned his talents to the question of electoral systems for a devolved legislature in Ireland. The Home Rule Bill then being discussed provided for an all-Ireland Parliament with a 164 member House of Commons and a 40-member Senate; I confess that I was utterly unaware of the electoral arrangements prescribed, which were that the Senate should be entirely nominated at first and then elected by proportional representation from the provinces, and that the House of Commons would be elected from constituencies of a variety of sizes, with those electing three or more members (nine seats with 31 MPs) doing so by proportional representation (incidentally the multi-member seats were mainly urban, and the smaller districts rural, which – whether by accident or design – would surely have resulted in under-representation of the Left). The Irish Parliament had the power to change the House of Commons electoral system once established, but there was no such power as regards the Senate.

Meredith, a strong supporter of proportional representation over first-past-the-post (as we now call it), makes an equally strong argument that the single transferable vote is not a good system in general and that it was unsuited to Ireland in 1913 in particular. His preferred option instead is a modification of the voting system which then applied – and in fact still does – in, of all places, my adopted country, Belgium: an open list system, with the additional points that parties should be allowed to form tactical coalitions to pool their votes, and that the final seats should be allocated by Droop quota and largest remainder rather than by the d’Hondt method.

Meredith makes the point that STV is not in fact a proportional system, and that its supporters are entirely disingenuous about it effect on party politics; and much of this part of his critique remains pretty valid today, and in some respects it has been born out by Irish experience in the century since he wrote. It is undeniably true that STV encourages parties to put up fewer candidates than a list system does. It is also clear that the fewer candidates a party nominates, the greater the role of the party selectorate in choosing them. In my own Belgian village last October, four of the five parties put up a full slate of candidates for the 21 seats available, so we had 89 candidates to choose from (out of a population of just over 10,000, so roughly one inhabitant in a hundred was on the ballot paper); compare with Omagh in Northern Ireland in 2010, where there were also 21 seats up for grabs, but in three 7-seat areas with a total of 30 candidates (out of a population of just under 20,000, so one person in 600 was a candidate). In Oud-Heverlee, no party ran fewer than 5 candidates; in Omagh, no party other than Sinn Féin ran more than two candidates in any area (and the Shinners’ largest slate was five).

From the point of view of party management, open lists are pretty ideal. You have a great excuse for candidate recruitment, candidates have every incentive to work hard at getting their own personal vote out (which benefits the party as a whole) and you don’t have to worry about losing votes which transfer away at later counts under STV. It’s not surprising that reform-minded Irish politicians today tend to advocate a move away from STV to a list system (missing the point that the real problem is when you insist that government ministers must also be burdened with constituency duties).

Where I part company with Meredith is that I don’t agree that what is good for party managers is necessarily good for politics in general. I concede some of his points – including the argument that STV’s favouring of moderate candidates against the extremes is in fact a strike against its claims to proportionality (it’s a hit I am willing to take) – but it still seems to me that STV offers the voter more transparency and clarity over the process, and more influence over the result, than any list system ever can. Meredith makes much of the need to better integrate the reality of political parties into the electoral system; in fact a lot of that work has been done since 1913, with parties now registered legal entities, with certain statutory duties and obligations, in a manner undreamt of in 1983, never mind 1913.

Still, it’s a very interesting book for us psephological anoraks. I do not believe I have read a more robust denunciation of STV from the pro-electoral reform side of the debate. I suspect that Meredith, by pointing out the impracticality of province-wide elections for the Senate (including 14 for Ulster, presumably the same for Leinster) may have had one immediate effect on the Home Rule legislation – the Senate ended up in the Act as a body whose members were to remain nominated but (after its first term) by the Irish rather than the British government, making it an unabashed rubber stamp and effectively demonstrating, a century ago, that Ireland really doesn’t need a second chamber at all.

August Books 3) The Wages of Sin, by David A. McIntee

Hurrah! Another Liz Shaw story, as the Dctor, newly freed by the Time Lords, takes her and Jo for a spin. Liz being Liz, she asks to see the Tunguska Event; the Tardis being the Tardis, they arrive instead a few years later in St Petersburg just in time to get embroiled in the assassination of Rasputin (to which I have a mild family connection). As usual, McIntee’s historical research is superb and detailed, without crowding out the regular characters; I’d have liked more banter between Liz and Jo, but I enjoyed what we got, Liz as the more serious cerebral type occasionally wrong-footed by Jo’s stronger practicality; and the ethical dilemma of non-interference with history is brought home to the Doctor rather brutally at the end. Rather more (implied) sex and (explicit) violence than most Who books, but rather difficult to write a book on this topic without it.

I’m trying to think of any other “pure historical” Third Doctor story, and coming up blank, which is actually a little surprising.

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August Books 2) Kraken, by China Miéville

London does fit well as a setting for intense occult novels – its long history of being a storehouse of knowledge and ritual, and the intimacy demanded of you if you want to engage with its geography: historical landmarks above ground, Underground stations below. Kraken reminded me very much both of Paul Cornell’s London Falling and of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere; perhaps more of the former, in that the plot involves an occult police team (though here they are not the central characters) pursuing an ancient and murderous mystery, though some of the details along the way are more Gaimanesque. After a strong start, with the theft of a giant squid exhibit from a museum, there are lots of good touches but it didn’t quite come together as I had hoped. Unusually mainstream for Miéville, which I don’t see as necessarily a Bad Thing.

August Books 1) The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, by Agatha Christie

I remember when I first read this, a third of a century ago, and my shock at the twist ending, one of the best ever executed in crime literature. I reread it last week, for the first time since then, assessing whether Christie is “fair”; is the solution pulled out of thin air for gratuitous effect? Or are there in fact clues that the alert reader might pick up?

And my conclusion is that it’s pretty fair. The are a couple of important clues in the early chapters right up to the discovery of Roger Ackroyd’s body; we are then misdirected by the seething discontent and deceit of the Ackroyd household, which presents several sub-plots which have to be resolved one by one, until we are left only with the original question. Unlike And Then There Were None and Murder On The Orient Express, this is a pretty ordinary crime, done for ordinary reasons, extraordinary only in the way the solution is revealed, and I think all the stronger for it.

Roger Ackroyd is not poisoned, but there has been a poisoning shortly before the story starts, and it ends with another. In fact I believe that poison is a relatively rare method of murder, both in real life and in fiction (for Sherlock Holmes, whose adventures are often, like Ackroyd, narrated by a doctor, I can remember only A Study in Scarlet; for Ian Rankin, I can’t remember any at all). Unfortunately we have killing and death constantly with us; Agatha Christie’s genius is to isolate these fears by using bizarre methods and nested circles of isolation where these events take place – the secluded village, containing Ackroyd’s house which is in it yet distanced from it, in turn containing Ackroyd’s study where he must not be disturbed.

I’m watching Poirot with interest for signs of Belgicity. (Saying septante instead of soixante-dix, that kind of thing.) Nothing yet to indicate that he is other than an eccentric Frenchman, alas. The least plausible parts of the novel are the rapidity with which he takes the narrator and his nosy sister into his confidence, and his decision (as in Murder On The Orient Express) to thwart state enforcement of justice in favour of his own interpretation of natural justice. Perhaps the second of these is a case of implementing the famous Belgian saying, on s’arrange, but I don’t really think so.

Anyway, I’m enjoying these much more than Lovejoy. The only problem is that murder mysteries are not great as insomnia reading…

Agatha Christie:
The Mysterious Affair at Styles | The Secret Adversary | The Murder on the Links | The Man in the Brown Suit | The Murder of Roger Ackroyd | The Big Four | The Mystery of the Blue Train | The Murder at the Vicarage | Murder on the Orient Express | Death in the Clouds | The A.B.C. Murders | Murder in Mesopotamia | Cards on the Table | Death on the Nile | Appointment With Death | Hercule Poirot’s Christmas | And Then There Were None | Evil Under the Sun | The Body in the Library | Five Little Pigs | The Moving Finger | Crooked House | A Murder Is Announced | 4.50 from Paddington | Hallowe’en Party

Twelve Who companions

Project Motor Mouth
Bernice Summerfield (Lisa Bowerman), Ace (Sophie Aldred), Adric (Matthew Waterhouse), Nyssa (Sarah Sutton), Tegan (Janet Fielding), Leela (Louise Jameson), Romana II (Lalla Ward), K9 (John Leeson), Victoria (Deborah Watling), Susan (Carole Ann Ford), and Jo Grant (Katy Manning) are entertained by Polly (Anneke Wills) in Slough earlier today.

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June Books 22-24) Misschien, Nooit, Ooit, by Kristof Spaey and Marc Legendre

A trilogy of short graphic novels, scripts by Marc Legendre and art by Kristof Spaey, which tell the story of a young photographer in Antwerp whose mysterious new lover, and his ostensible sister, appear to be involved with the nasty end of orgnaised crime in the back streets of Antwerp. The particular gimmick here – which is very effective – is that the three volumes are told from different perspectives, the young woman, her lover, and the Cambodian-Belgian policeman involved with the case, so that scenes we saw in one installment are replayed with quite a different meaning in a later volume. More importantly, we get new and important background information about the central characters in each volume. Spaey’s art is superb, and I’ll look out for more from him. The story is convincing and the narrative structure is engaging.

I was dismayed at the casual use of “spleetoog” by several of the characters. My impression is that it is a pretty offensive word for people with east and southeast Asian heritage. The third volume, told from the perspective of a Belgian policeman with roots in that culture, missed the opportunity to redress the balance.

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July Books

Non-fiction 3 (YTD 22)
A Room of One’s Own, by Virginia Woolf
Shakespeare’s Handwriting: A Study, by Edward Maunde Thompson
Katherine Swynford: The History of a Medieval Mistress, by Jeannette Lucraft

Fiction (non-sf) 9 (YTD 23)
The Complete Stories of Zora Neale Hurston
Dead Souls, by Nikolai Gogol
Desert, by J.M.G. Le Clézio
Confessions of Zeno, by Italo Svevo
The Last Empress, by Anchee Min
And Then There Were None, by Agatha Christie
Spend Game, by Jonathan Gash
Murder on the Orient Express, by Agatha Christie
The Pickwick Papers, by Charles Dickens

SF (non-Who) 4 (YTD 40)
The Jagged Orbit, by John Brunner
Fantastic Voyage, by Isaac Asimov
Kiss of the Butterfly, by James Lyon
Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins

Doctor Who 5 (YTD 37)
Harvest of Time, by Alastair Reynolds
The Also People, by Ben Aaronovitch
Vanishing Point, by Steve Cole
Plague of the Cybermen, by Justin Richards
The Ripple Effect, by Malorie Blackman

Comics 3 (YTD 19)
Misschien, by Kristof Spaey and Marc Legendre
Nooit, by Kristof Spaey and Marc Legendre
Ooit, by Kristof Spaey and Marc Legendre

~6,600 pages (YTD 37,100)
8/24 (YTD 38/141) by women (Woolf, Lucraft, Hurston, Min, Christiex2, Collins, Blackman)
3/24 (YTD 7/141) by PoC (Hurston, Min, Blackman)

Rereads: And Then There Were None– 1 (YTD 7).
Acquired 2011 or before: 6 (YTD 46) – The Also People, Vanishing Point, Confessions of Zeno, Desert, Dead Souls, Katherine Swynford.
Acquired 2012: 3 (YTD 20) – The Pickwick Papers, Fantastic Voyage, The Jagged Orbit
Acquired 2013: 15 (YTD 75) – The Last Empress, Misschien, Nooit, Ooit, The Complete Stories of Zora Neale Hurston, Plague of the Cybermen, A Room of One’s Own, Mockingjay, Harvest of Time, Spend Game, Shakespeare’s Handwriting, Kiss of the Butterfly, And Then There Were None, The Ripple Effect, Murder on the Orient Express

Reading now:
Kraken, by China Mieville
Standing in Another Man’s Grave, by Ian Rankin
The Monsters and the Critics, by J R R Tolkien
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, by Agatha Christie

Coming Next (perhaps):
The History of the Hobbit v. 1: Mr Baggins, by John D. Rateliff
Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson
Shakespeare’s Planet, by Clifford D. Simak
Far North & Other Dark Tales by Sara Maitland
A Book of Silence by Sara Maitland
Streetlethal by Steven Barnes
The Crown of Dalemark by Diana Wynne Jones
Eleanor, Countess of Desmond by Anne Chambers
Royal Assassin by Robin Hobb
Rebus’s Scotland: A Personal Journey, by Ian Rankin
The Tunnel at the End of the Light, by Stefan Petrucha
The Adventures Of Luther Arkwright, by Bryan Talbot
The Theology of the Gospel of Mark, by W. R. Telford
The Subtle Knife, by Philip Pullman
The Moment of Eclipse, by Brian Aldiss
The House of the Seven Gables, by Nathaniel Hawthorne
The Far Side Of The World, by Patrick O’Brian
The Flood, by Ian Rankin
Conjure Wife, by Fritz Leiber
Clean, by Katherine Ashenburg
The Wages of Sin, by David A. McIntee
Shakedown, by Terrance Dicks
Eater of Wasps, by Trevor Baxendale
The Dalek Generation, by Nicholas Briggs

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Links I found interesting for 31-07-2013

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July Books 21) The Pickwick Papers, by Charles Dickens

‘We want to know, in the first place,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘whether you have any reason to be discontented with your present situation.’
‘Afore I answers that ‘ere question, gen’l’m’n,’ replied Mr. Weller, ‘I should like to know, in the first place, whether you’re a-goin’ to purwide me with a better?’

I got to page 118 of this and was beginning to despair, to the point that I actually put out a plaintive Tweet/Facebook post wondering if there would be a funny bit soon. But in fact Sam Weller arrives to rescue the book at the end of page 119, thank heavens; although there is a lot of snobbish condescension in Dickens’ portrayal of him, he is also given some penetrating insights and just some generally good lines.

There’s a defence of The Pickwick Papers which would be similar to what apologists for some parts of Old Who might say: reading this as a novel is contrary to the author’s original intent – it was written as a series of humorous installments, when Dickens was 24, and today’s reader’s experience of it is analogous to the puzzled New Who fan who puts on the newly bought DVD of An Unearthly Child for their first experience of Old Who.

Yet at the same time, that’s not really good enough. The book is presented as a novel, and has been since 1837, only a few months after the original publication (unlike An Unearthly Child, broadcast in 1963 and released on video only in 1990), so I think it’s fair to criticise its failings as a novel. Pickwick himself is much less clever than he realises, which is not actually all that funny at first and gets less funny as the book wears on. The plot, such as it is, revolves around some terribly conventional farce tropes which were old-fashioned when Plautus did them in about 200 BC, linking together various set-piece sketches of life in the old days (ie about a decade before the book was actually written).

But what makes the book is a) Weller’s sardonic commentary, and b) some of the set-pieces. The Eatanswill by-election is still a favourite among us political types, but reading it in context I was struck that the author’s emphasis – and the element from the episode that returns later in the book – is actually on the two local newspapers, who feud with each other in a gloriously fannish style which is very recognisable today. The ghost stories which punctuate various chapters are also neatly done for their type (in general better than the average Poe story) with The Bagman’s Tale, in one of the later chapters, surely one of the first examples of a time travel romance in literature?

The Pickwick Papers is a long old slog, however, and I think the casual reader could be excused for seeking out the edited highlights only.

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High Street, Belfast

High Street, Belfast, 1786
Here are men in tricorn hats
And lownecked belles, all full of chat,
Blocking the vista to the docks;

The loosed-out carts
And panniered horse, the dogs
At random.

It's twenty to four
By the public clock. A cloaked rider
Clops off into an entry

Coming perhaps from the Linen Hall
Or Cornmarket
Where (this civic print unfrozen)

In twelve years time
They hanged young MacCracken –
And this man with a crutch

And this tricorned fop
Forever arrested, pre-revolution.
Pen and ink, water tint

Fence and fetch us in
Under bracketed tavern signs,
The edged gloom of arcades.

It's twenty to four
On one of the last afternoons
Of reasonable light.

Smell the tidal Lagan:
Take a last turn with citizens
In the tang of possibility.

Seamus Heaney

Here is the same scene rather more recently in Google Maps, presumably taken on a Sunday when all the shops were closed.

High St, Belfast

(How did Seamus Heaney know it was twenty to four? I can't see any clocks in the earlier picture. Maybe it's poetic licence.)

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July Books 20) Murder on the Orient Express, by Agatha Christie

Poirot was silent a minute. Then he said: “If you will be so good, M. Hardman, assemble everyone here. There are two possible solutions of this case. I want to lay them both before you all.”

I had not actually read this Agatha Christie novel before, though of course I knew whodunnit as it has been widely spoilered in popular culture. There is still a thrill in watching the insanely convoluted plot (both story and conspiracy) come together, and I patted myself on the back for picking up the one clue that Poirot misses (the monogrammed handkerchief). It’s also interesting for just how much the backstory draws on the real-life Lindbergh kidnapping, which had happened two years before the book’s publication; the similarities will not have been lost on the contemporary audience. The resolution does require impressive ability to deceive Poirot, at least initially, on the part of those responsible, and his moral choice at the end is a bit questionable (though not the only time this happens; I shall be keeping count).

But there is extra fascination for today’s reader in the locations described. The opening scene of the book is the railway station in Aleppo, where Poirot is joining the train that started in Baghdad (with a break between Kirkuk and Nisibis). It’s extraordinary for us now to imagine that route being a relatively unremarkable train journey, the year after Hitler took power in Germany. (Agatha Christie of course knew it well because of her visits to husband’s excavations near Nineveh.)

For me the setting came even closer to personal experience when I realised that the actual murder takes place just outside Vinkovci, which I knew in 1998 as a traumatised frontline town recovering painfully from the recent conflict. In December of that year, with wife and small child, I drove past Vinkovci on the former Highway of Brotherhood and Unity through heavy snow, got turned back at the Serbian frontier after navigating the minefields, and finally found a hotel bed in the smashed urban moonscape of Vukovar. So although the area around the likely scene of the crime is actually fairly densely populated, I did feel shudders of sympathy. (See also Saki’s short story, “The Name Day“, for another creepy story of being stuck in a snowbound train carriage in the future Yugoslavia.)

I think as a mystery novel this is actually better than And Then There Were None; the story is more representative of the genre, there is somewhat less overt racism (gosh, a sympathetic Jewish character!), and the plot is slightly less implausible. I admit that these are fairly fine grades of distinction.

Agatha Christie:
The Mysterious Affair at Styles | The Secret Adversary | The Murder on the Links | The Man in the Brown Suit | The Murder of Roger Ackroyd | The Big Four | The Mystery of the Blue Train | The Murder at the Vicarage | Murder on the Orient Express | Death in the Clouds | The A.B.C. Murders | Murder in Mesopotamia | Cards on the Table | Death on the Nile | Appointment With Death | Hercule Poirot’s Christmas | And Then There Were None | Evil Under the Sun | The Body in the Library | Five Little Pigs | The Moving Finger | Crooked House | A Murder Is Announced | 4.50 from Paddington | Hallowe’en Party

July Books 19) Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins

“Sometime in the near future, this war will be resolved. A new leader will be chosen,” says Boggs.
I roll my eyes. “Boggs, no one thinks I’m going to be the leader.”
“No. They don’t,” he agrees. “But you’ll throw support to someone. Would it be President Coin? Or someone else?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it,” I say.
“If your immediate answer isn’t Coin, then you’re a threat.”

In the concluding volume of the Hunger Games trilogy, Katniss has to work out not so much how to win the war against the regime of President Snow – that part seems to be working reasonably well, now that the rebellion has actually started – but also how to prevent it from being replaced by something just as bad, or worse. There’s some pretty sane political critique in the trilogy, most especially of media culture and of authoritarianism, and that comes to a peak here when Katniss makes an agonising choice in the final pages (one which, judging from the internets, is actually lost on some readers). There’s a harrowing sequence of her penetrating to the heart of the capitol, in constant danger and losing allies at every step, and of course with unresolved romance issues which she is forced to repress at significant emotional cost. I come away thinking that the first is the best of the three volumes, and one can read it without needing to learn what happens next, but this is a decent conclusion.

There was a remarkable story in the Economist a couple of months back about the adoption of the Hunger Games by the Tea Party. These novels are not great literature, but I think their approach to challenging authority and looking beyond bread and circuses for the reality of your society is sound; and I am not sure that the libertarians have chosen the best author for their own purposes here. While Katniss is (obviously) a fighter for her own freedom and that of others, I sense a pretty important thread of social justice in the books too.

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July Books 18) Spend Game, by Jonathan Gash

The house lies back from the pavement. Beyond the line of dwellings is a row of gardens. Then the dreadful countryside starts, rolling fields, woods, streams, trees. Really horrible, not an antique shop anywhere. I hate the bloody stuff.

I think that this will be my last Lovejoy book for a while. The actual antique mystery bit is particularly well done here: Lovejoy's obsession with relics from the dawn of the railway age turn out to be the basis of a peculiar murder mystery, and there is a thrilling climax as he tries to outwit his enemies trapped at the wrong end of an underground tunnel. But his revolting and sometimes violent misogyny is also on full display too, and it is rather implausible that so many women can simultaneously be pursuing his affections considering how badly he treats them all. I think I'll switch to Agatha Christie for a bit.

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July Books 17) The Ripple Effect, by Malorie Blackman

'For you, time is waves on a beach that you dip a toe into. For me it’s a whole ocean, all the way from coast to coast and from the surface to the ocean floor. I feel time in the very core of my being in a way that you never can.'

The latest of the short Puffin books doing a Doctor a month, and this being July it's the Seventh Doctor and Ace, slipping into a universe where the Daleks inexplicably appear to have become the good guys. Blackman puts the Doctor in an existential moral dilemma with regard to the Daleks rather well (and I notice that the Third Doctor has a similar problem with the Master in Alastair Reynolds' recent novel75 Seventh Doctor novels out there. Still, I think the originality of the plot is commendable in such a short book.

(And as far as I know, Blackman is the first woman of colour to write a Doctor Who story in any medium.)

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July Books 16) Katherine Swynford: The History of a Medieval Mistress, by Jeannette Lucraft

Was she kind, gentle, warm, blessed with a good sense of humour? This we do not know, beyond the conjecture that her personality must have been of merit to hold Gaunt’s attention and love for so long.

A fairly short book, with a bit of a sense of PhD thesis pushed into book form, looking at the life and historical treatment of Katherine Swynford, John of Gaunt’s lover and later his wife in the late 14th century. The core facts are interesting enough – her father appears to have been a Flemish mercenary, but she moved comfortably in royal circles and her sister married Geoffrey Chaucer, and her love affair with Gaunt was publicly acknowledged while his second wife was still living. Lucraft dwells on the scandalised treatment of the Gaunt household arrangements by later monastic chroniclers, but carefully dissects them to demonstrate that there may really have been general acceptance of the situation, with the most negative comments written some time afterwards, politically motivated and inaccurate on the facts. Indeed I wish she had gone a bit further and explicitly looked at the John of Gaunt / Katherine Swynford / Isabella of Castile relationship as a stable triad, terminated only by Isabella’s death; there are plenty of historical, literary and contemporary examples to draw from. (One favourite of mine is Peter Dickinson’s alternate twentieth-century British Royals in King and Joker.)

Lucraft then offers an interpretation of Katherine’s personal worldview as having been inspired by St Catherine of Alexandria. Here she makes a very good case for the fact of Katherine’s devotion based on the surviving iconography, but falls down a bit in interpreting what this might have meant to her subject: Catherine of Alexandria was, famously, a virgin, and Katherine Swynford, also fairly famously, was not (Swynford was the surname of her first husband, by whom she had had three children before the four she had with John of Gaunt). I think that there must be something in St Catherine’s facility in helping her devotees to overcome suffering, and also possibly her personal devotion to learning, but Lucraft disappointingly strays off the specifics into a general discussion of godly women (though I did find the parallels with Margery Kempe interesting).

Anyway, I’m going slow on my own historical project at present, but this was an interesting example of what you can learn about a person, and about history, when they were moderately important in their own right but can only be reconstructed from physical artefacts and from what other people said about them.

July Books 15) Plague of the Cybermen, by Justin Richards

‘Are we faster than them? Are they following?’ Olga demanded. ‘Where are we going? Are we lost? Will we ever get out of these tunnels alive?’
‘No, probably, not sure, absolutely not, and I hope so.’
What?’
‘Well – you asked.’

This turned out to be an interesting paired reading with Kiss of the Butterfly, in that they are both riffs on the classic vampire mythos in different ways: where James Lyon has gone right back to the roots of the legend, Justin Richards has of course gone for the Cybermen (who as points out are not all that far from the undead anyway). New Who has actually been doing quite a good job of reimagining the Cybermen in their last couple of appearances; this novel has strong links to both the TV story Closing Time and the 8th Doctor audio The Silver Turk, though I felt not quite as good as either. I had expected that this would be an Eleven/Clara novel, but in fact it’s Eleven-on-his-own, with one-off companion Olga. (Pedantic niggle: Olga not such a likely name for a woman in a German-speaking village in Central Europe in the 19th century.) A decent enough effort.

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July Books 14) Kiss of the Butterfly, by James Lyon

His impression of Belgrade was one of dirty decay. He choked on the coal smoke, leaded automobile exhaust, cigarettes and diesel fumes, yet admired the awkward mix of graceful neglected old buildings and concrete communist kitsch. Street-corner black market currency dealers buzzed about like swarming bees as they chanted endlessly the Serbian word for hard currency, ‘devize, devize, devize.’ He was almost run over several times by new black Audis, BMWs and Mercedes with tinted windows, whose drivers braked for no one and rarely observed traffic lights, while the police stood by. And no one smiled.

Here it is at last: the Balkan vampire novel by my former colleague James Lyon, in which he unites a vivid impression of living in Belgrade as an American expat during the opening months of the Balkan conflicts of the 1990s with some well developed vampire mythology, drawn from the lore of the region rather than from the twentieth century’s elaborations of Bram Stoker. The plot has sinister forces within the Serbian regime attempting to exploit an occult investment laid down centuries before by the Austro-Hungarian empire, with the central character a young American researcher trying to make sense of it all (and also to work through his feelings for two different Serbian girls). It’s all very smartly done, and entertaining, and clearly leaves enough unresolved threads for a sequel or two.

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Links I found interesting for 27-07-2013

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Links I found interesting for 26-07-2013

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Links I found interesting for 25-07-2013

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Links I found interesting for 24-07-2013

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Wednesday reading

Current:
Spend Game, by Jonathan Gash
The Pickwick Papers, by Charles Dickens
Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins
Kraken, by China Mieville

Last books finished
And Then There Were None, by Agatha Christie
Fantastic Voyage, by Isaac Asimov
[Doctor Who] Plague of the Cybermen, by Justin Richards
Katherine Swynford, by Jeannette Lucraft
Kiss of the Butterfly, by James Lyon
[Doctor Who] The Ripple Effect, by Malorie Blackman

Next books
Standing in Another Man's Grave, by Ian Rankin
The Monsters and the Critics, by J.R.R. Tolkien
The History of the Hobbit, vol 1: Mr Baggins, by John D. Rateliff

Books acquired in last week:
[Doctor Who] The Ripple Effect, by Malorie Blackman
Tell My Horse, by Zora Neale Hurston
The Watchers: A Secret History of the Reign of Elizabeth I, by Stephen Alford
And Then There Were None, by Agatha Christie

LT unread books tally: 442.

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The next number

in the sequence of pronic numbers which are multiples of increasing powers of ten:

2
20
600
141,000
390,000
87,900,000
11,963,000,000
1 x 2
4 x 5
24 x 25
375 x 376
624 x 625
9.375 x 9.376
109,375 x 109,376

Hope that clears things up.

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A pub evening in Brussels

So there I am, out for drinks with and others; and I realise that the foreign minister of Georgia, and two of her deputy foreign ministers, and their entourage, have all just appeared behind on their way to the bar for a swift one. Only in Brussels, eh?

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Links I found interesting for 23-07-2013

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