Three Who audiobooks

August Books 46) The Peacemaker, by James Swallow (abridged version read by Will Thorpe)

The Doctor and Martha turn up in the Wild West of the 1880s and thwart an alien invasion. Thorpe has fun doing the accents.

August Books 47) Snowglobe 7, by Mike Tucker (abridged version read by Georgia Moffett)

Interesting setting – near future earth facing catastrophic warming, so chunks of arctic terrain are being preserved (but for some reason in Dubai). Ancient alien menace, of course, dealt with by the Doctor and Martha (who gets some good moments); well enough written and keeps the attention. Georgia Moffett doesn’t go over the top but delivers the goods.

August Books 48) The Doctor Trap, by Simon Messingham (abridged version read by Russell Tovey)

Like Stuart Burns, I began by expecting this book to be a derivative rejigging of Richard Connell’s famous short story, “The Most Dangerous Game”, with the Doctor being pursued by trophy hunters who literally want his head, and like him I was pleased when my expectations were confounded a couple of chapters in and the narrative jumped into quite a different structure of real vs fake Doctors who might or might not know whether or not they are the real thing. Unlike Burns I didn’t quite feel that the conclusion delivered on the premises, but it is decent enough. Tovey has great fun doing the villainous Sebastiene, though his Donna is a bit less confident.

All standard stuff really.

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Today’s quiz

What comes next?

  1. Narmer
  2. Aha
  3. Djer
  4. ?

And no sneaky Googling for the answer!

I confess I don’t think I had ever heard of Narmer, Aha or Djer, though they are the first of a very famous sequence.

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August Books 45) The Collected Stories of Roger Zelazny, vol 1: Threshold

Problems with my train journeys to and from work today meant that I managed to finish this weighty volume of almost 600 pages, covering the early work of the late, great Roger Zelazny (1937-1995). This is the first of a planned series of six volumes covering his entire literary career, published by the New England Science Fiction Association and edited by David G. Grubbs, Christopher S. Kovacs and Ann Crimmins. Together with volume two, it was launched at Boskone in February which was where I bought it.

I suspect that the book’s main audience will be Zelazny fans like myself, hoping for 1) hitherto unpublished literary gems unearthed by the editors’ diligence, 2) some insights into those aspects of Zelazny’s life and background which made it possible for him to produce his work, and 3) a convenient volume including our favourite pieces. NESFA have delivered on all three. A lot of the uncollected pieces here are rather minor, but there were a couple which jumped out at me as memorable (“Final Dining”, “Circe Has Her Problems”). There is a decent amount of explanatory biographical material by co-editor Kovacs, Carl Yoke and a preface by Robert Silverberg. And this first volume includes “A Rose for Ecclesiastes”, “The Doors Of His Face, The Lamps Of His Mouth” and “He Who Shapes”, Zelazny’s best early stories, which is a powerful mixture.

Satisfying those three requirements would just about justify the hefty $29 price of this hardback. But there are several other positive points about it. First, a lot of Zelazny’s early poetry is collected here, interspersed through the stories, certainly at a pace where I could appreciate it. Second, and probably deserving to be mentioned before this, there is a brilliant Michael Whelan cover which will apparently span the jackets of all six volumes. Third, each story and poem has, if available, a short epilogue from Zelazny himself explaining his own feelings about it, and also a glossary of literary references (most of which are accurate, though I wouldn’t be surprised if the Miller whose writing has emetic effects is Henry rather than Arthur).

So, apart from its obvious appeal to existing fans, I think volume one at least is well-designed as a gateway book to encourage new sf readers to read more Zelazny and just to read more widely. “A Rose for Ecclesiastes” is a really powerful story to begin with – consciously old-fashioned but doing something new as well. “He Who Shapes”, drawing as it does on Zelazny’s own experience of car accidents and bereavement, is a good ending point for this first selection. The commentary keeps us going through the less memorable stories in the middle. I am looking forward to reading volume two, and to buying the rest as they come out.

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Three Ian Rankin novels

For reasons which will eventually become clear, we have amassed a large proportion of the writings of Ian Rankin, and I started with the first three Rebus novels on the way back from hols.

August Books 42) Knots and Crosses, by Ian Rankin

The first Rebus book introduces us to our hero, who has a Past – two Pasts, in fact: a traumatic military experience in the SAS, and a failed marriage. The two collide in spectacular fashion; it’s not so much a detective novel as a psychological account of Rebus working through his own experiences. Both Rankin and Rebus also seem to have a fascination with the intersection between police procedurality and media manipulation. All set against a richly detailed Edinburgh. A good start.

August Books 43) Hide and Seek, by Ian Rankin

I also enjoyed Hide and Seek, which expanded one of the themes from Knots and Crosses – Rebus’ relationship with his non-policeman brother – for a complex web of pairs of police/non-police brothers whose relationships cross the boundary of legality. It’s also the most political of the first three novels, in that Rebus’ investigation into the lonely death of a drug addict takes him into the highest echelons of Edinburgh society (there is a scene featuring the Temptation of John Rebus by the devils of social status). The ending is rather unsatisfactory for Rebus but not for the reader.

August Books 44) Tooth and Nail, by Ian Rankin

The third book worked least well for me, taking Rebus off his home patch to London to investigate a serial killer. The London of Tooth and Claw seemed improbably small, with everyone turned out to be related to each other; its population also appeared to be entirely white. The subplot with a forensic psychologist who was not what she seemed was not very plausible. And the solution to the actual mystery was more suited to an Agatha Christie country house murder fantasy than to the gritty urban narrative that Rankin was probably trying to write.

So I am adding Rankin to my monthly reading list, taking the books more or less in order. It is interesting to read a totally different take on the setting also used by Charles Stross and Ken MacLeod (though of course set in the present day rather than a future independent Scotland).

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August Books 41) Early Belfast, by Raymond Gillespie

This short (180 pages) and readable book tells the story of Belfast up to 1750, using what there is of contemporary records and archæological evidence. I learnt a lot from it (more than from my previous reading). As a schoolchild I had been taught the early history of the city as originating around the River Farset, which now flows under Castle Street, Castle Place and High Street (eating away the foundations of the Albert Clock to make it lean slightly). The truth is more complicated.

In fact the medieval settlement of Belfast was roughly a block farther south – the castle was roughly on Castle Lane, and what settlements there were around it appear to have been on Anne Street – although the oldest church in Belfast is generally described as being sited on High Street, its original entrance was from Anne Street. This is because that axis was the centre of a spit of land between the Farset River (now High Street) to the north and the original course of the Blackstaff (roughly Donegall Square North / Chichester Street / Victoria Square) to the south, leading from the castle to the original ford or causeway across the Lagan which was fairly close to where the Queen’s Bridge is now.

The castle lay at the boundary between different Gaelic chieftains’ territories, and was never held by anyone for very long. The Earl of Essex proposed settling it as a town in the 1570s but died horribly. Eventually the Chichester family, who became the Earls of Donegall (sic), took it on and rapidly developed the town in the first decades of the seventeenth century.

Here I expected that we would switch back into the narrative I learned at school of a development centred around High Street. But I was out by a block again, though in the other direction this time: the seventeenth-century town took Waring Street as its principal axis, though the church remained on the southern shore of High Street, on (or even off) the edge of town. The Donegalls developed a new castle on the site of the old one, but it was for ostentation rather than defence, and they preferred to have the townsfolk living at arms length, farther north.

The next major development came with the conflict of the 1640s. In 1641, the largely Protestant townsfolk managed to fight off Catholic insurgents and became a haven for displaced refugees from elsewhere in Ulster. The town’s defensive ramparts were built in 1642, but Belfast changed hands several times over the next few years between Royalist, Parliamentarian and Scottish forces, so the ramparts probably weren’t much use (Gillespie suggests they were badly designed and the maps show clearly that they left a large gap at the northern edge of town).

Over the second half of the seventeenth century Belfast thrived, as the local political situation settled down (King Billy passed through in 1690). But partly as a result of the forced population movements of 1641, it had become the most militantly Presbyterian town in Ireland, and this made for unhappy cohabitation with the Donegalls. The economy slumped in the eighteenth century, and Belfast was hit particularly badly. the Donegalls were unable to provide leadership (the third earl was killed fighting in Spain in 1706, his son who lived to 1757 apparently had a learning disability, and the family became less fond of Belfast after the earl’s three daughters were killed when the castle burned to the ground in 1708. Although the Donegalls fought and won their battles with the (mainly Presbyterian) merchants for political domination of the town, the legacy was one where the landlords were not really disposed to foster the local economy. Again, returning to my schoolbook, the story of Belfast starts to pick up with the linen trade in the later eighteenth century, but really this could have happened fifty years earlier if the Donegalls and merchants had come to terms. The fifth earl / first marquess was prepared to forgive and forget, and started the great push of development after 1757.

I was really struck by the similarities between the early histories of Belfast and New Amsterdam / New York. Belfast was founded about fifteen years earlier, but equally as part of a colonisation project, and both found themselves, after a few decades of development, playing rather marginal roles in the geopolitical conflicts of the mid to late sixteenth century. (The Belfast defensive rampart of 1642 was as militarily useless as the wall built to protect New York in 1653.) Both are well-situated on usable harbours at the natural confluence of trading routes into their respective hinterland. But a century after their foundation, Belfast was slumping while New York was booming.

New Amsterdam, of course, started life as a project of the Dutch government rather than just of one family, and I suspect another factor may have been that potential settlers were more terrified of Irish Catholics than Native Americans. But even so, the two projects were developing at relatively level pegging for their first few decades (New York’s population in 1646 was about 400, Belfast had 589 taxpayers in 1660 so it population must have been several times bigger). The real difference is that Belfast remained a family fiefdom – the Donegalls were on the winning side of all the seventeenth century wars, apart from a brief interlude in the 1640s – while New Amsterdam was captured by the British, who then had to come to terms with the population – who accepted the rebranding of the city as “New York” but held onto (and indeed strengthened) various cultural and religious rights not enjoyed at the mouth of the Farset. All very thought-provoking.

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August Books 39-40) Yendi and Teckla, by Steven Brust

After I rather bounced off Jhereg, I was urged to give Brust’s Taltos books another try. I have done, and I’m afraid they still don’t grab me at all.

These two novels failed for me for slightly different reasons. In Yendi, there is an attractive romance subplot between the assassin crimelord narrator and the woman who kills him before he gets “revivified”, but the core story is mired in complex dynastic politics which were never explained to the point where I could actually care about them. In Teckla, I simply could not relate to Taltos’ unwillingness to adapt his personal code of honour to his wife’s political and personal interests: as far as I could suspend my disbelief, it made him a deeply unattractive character whose fate I could barely bring myself to care about. So I don’t think I’ll be trying any further volumes in the series.

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Well, Ken MacLeod agrees with me rather than with Jonathan Swift

Greensides, close to the top of Leith Walk, was fifteen years old, slabbed with obsolete fortification, pocked with likewise redundant gunports, and still referred to as ‘the new station’. Its upper floors commanded fine views to the west, along Queen Street to the towers and high-rise hydroponic farms of Turnhouse, and to the north across Leith Water and the Firth. So Ferguson had been told. He had never personally verified this, but had no reason to doubt it. His own office was in the middle of a long corridor on the second floor. At about 1.30 p.m. he elbowed the door handle and shouldered the door, coffee and sandwich in hand and papers in oxter.

The Night Sessions, chapter 1.

(Comments should be made to the previous post.)

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August Books 38) Satires and Personal Writings of Jonathan Swift

Passing through Dublin today we paused in St Patrick’s Cathedral to see the purported origin of the phrase “chancing one’s arm”, but also to pay homage to Jonathan Swift, resting where wild indignation can no longer tear at his heart. I’ve had this collection of his satirical and other writings (first published by OUP in 1932) on the shelves for years, and finally worked round to it this week.

I have to say that very little of it survives the three centuries since original composition particularly well. There were no more than half a dozen pieces that I felt really shone at the same level as Gulliver’s Travels: “A Modest Proposal” and the last Drapier Letter, of course, but also “A Meditation upon a Broomstick” (a brief but effective parody), and “A Letter to a Young Gentleman, Lately Entered into Holy Orders” (which has some excellent direct advice on writing sermons, or any public presentation); and also the random thoughts such as “Resolutions When I Come To Be Old” (which concludes that he also should not resolve to keep all the resolutions) and “Thoughts on Various Subjects”, the first of which is:

We have just enough Religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another.

Though actually that quote also illustrates some of the problems with Swift which make him unattractive to today’s reader. The sense is cynical, pessimistic and misanthropic (often misogynistic as well); also we are at risk of category errors – by “religion” and “we”/”us” does he mean any belief, and all of humanity? or just the Established Protestant Church of Ireland, and the Chapter of St Patrick’s Cathedral? The truth is probably somewhere in between but one can’t be certain about where.

Some of the choices of text are also rather odd. The extracts from the “Journal to Stella” are rather dull and exclude the most interesting political act Swift ever did, when he foiled an attempt to assassinate the prime minister of the day by means of a booby-trapped hat-box. (I am not making this up; his letter to Stella about it is online here, but not in this book.)

I probably paid about £2 for this, which would be about right. There is surely a market out there for a better, shorter collection of the Best of Swift, preferably with more useful explanatory and biographical material.

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It’s personnel, not political

I was out for a walk yesterday and came back to find I’d missed a call from a Sarajevo number (+387 for Bosnia, 33 for the capital city) – a bit puzzling, as I don’t have much business there these days. I checked my contacts database and discovered further that the missed call came from a number in the Office of the High Representative. This slightly alarmed me as I recently wrote an article, to be published in a few days’ time by the Heinrich Böll Stiftung, which is rather critical of the OHR; I wondered if they had got wind of it and were wanting to yell at me (which would not have been the first time that had happened), and sent out delicate feelers to my contact on the inside.

He came back and told me that the extension that had called was in the personnel department, not the political department; further, he knew that a mutual friend of our had been at OHR for a job interview, and suspected that they were calling me as a referee. Of course, personnel issues are political, but at least it’s probably not directed at me this time!

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August Books 37) The Face of the Enemy, by David A. McIntee

So, what was happening on Earth while the Doctor and Jo were on Peladon? Well, UNIT found itself dealing with peculiar doppelgangers of senior officials, and had to call on the resources of the Master, despite his imprisonment, and of some bloke called Chesterton, who brought his wife Barbara along as well. And up in Faslane, there was a naval medic called Sullivan who turned out to be rather useful…

One of my least favourite things about the Third Doctor era is the Third Doctor, so it was with some hope that I turned to this Past Doctor Adventure set in his absence. (I had also enjoyed McIntee’s Second Doctor / future Master story, The Dark Path.) My hope was largely justified. The Brigadier and the Master spark rather well, and there are lots of gleeful continuity moments (including a surprise reference to Delta and the Bannermen). Ian and Barbara take a while to bed into the UNIT environment, though, and the treatment of Barbara in particular isn’t terribly satisfactory; Ian as temporary Scientific Adviser is almost Liz Shaw to the Master as Doctor.

The actual plot is basically decent but important details get drowned out by continuity squee (though of course most readers will be concentrating on the squee). McIntee has apparently said he would have liked the villainous Marianne to be played by Jacqueline Pearce, and I can see that. A fun experiment with the format.

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Linkspam for 20-8-2009

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August Books 36) Ringside Seats: An Insider’s View of the Crisis in Northern Ireland – Robert Ramsay

Soon after I moved to Brussels in 1999, I was having lunch with John Cushnahan (then a Fine Gael MEP, and a former leader of the Alliance Party of Northern Ireland) in the European Parliament, when he briefly broke off our conversation to greet Robert Ramsay as he passed by. Cushnahan, not a political lightweight in any sense of the word, is a somewhat acerbic personality, so I was struck by the respect he clearly had for our fellow-countryman, a senior European Parliament official, who I frankly had never heard of before.

Well, I know about him now. The core market for this book – people who have escaped Northern Irish politics for a career in Brussels – is admittedly rather small, but I certainly qualify. Ramsay was a high-flyer in the Northern Ireland Civil Service, where he worked from 1964 to 1983, and then came to Brussels until his retirement in 1999 (though he remains engaged). Most remarkably, he served as PPS to Brian Faulkner, when the latter was Minister for Commerce in the late 1960s and again when he was the last Prime Minister of Northern Ireland in the early 1970s. After a gap of a few years, he then found himself doing the same job for Roy Mason who was the Labour Secretary of State for Northern Ireland in the late 1970s. He had always been a firm European, and welcomed the growth of the European project at the same time as the Northern Ireland situation deteriorated. He moved to Brussels to become the secretary-general of the European Democrats group of MEPs, and then masterminded the election of his boss as President of the European Parliament in 1987 for an intense term which ended in 1989. Apart from that he did various other public service jobs and took time out to write a book about Corsica.

The book comes across as a clear and honest account of the view he had of events. He is not awfully sensitive to the grievances of Catholics under Stormont rule; while he is at pains to rule out institutionalised discrimination over, say, the siting of the new university at Coleraine, he expresses utter bafflement as to why these decisions were made. There is a repeated theme of the bad stuff not really having happened on his watch, and therefore uncertainty as to whether it happened at all. (Though he also has a blind spot about the Orange Order, for which he has no understanding or sympathy.)

His account of working with Faulkner is probably the most interesting part of the book, in particular the dynamics around the suspension of Stormont and introduction of Direct Rule in 1972, which probably includes the most intimate portrayal of what it was like to work with Faulkner that we will ever get. Ramsay is clearly still conflicted about these events, and his account is contradictory with itself in places, as well as introducing elements that were new to me. First off, he admits up front that once the British Army had been deployed in August 1969, Stormont’s pretensions to autonomy were gone. But he then blames Edward Heath for “betraying” Faulkner, by abolishing Stormont in March 1972, motivated (in an original and intriguing analysis) by fear of possible French objections to British and Irish membership of the EEC (as it then was), rather than by any real security concerns (which were almost entirely Heath’s responsibility by then anyway). By his own account, the die had been cast almost three years earlier, and in any case from Ramsay’s perspective (as from Heath’s) the price was surely one worth paying. But that is perhaps to look at it too intellectually. It is clear that the introduction of direct rule killed Ramsay’s sense of loyalty to the concept of Britishness, and shaped the rest of his career.

One other passage from the 1971 period caught my eye. The Faulkner of Ramsay’s account is a moderniser and thus a reformer, rather than a sensitive or strategic thinker, motivated to reform local government and housing by the obvious requirements of the day. But his arrival as Prime Minister is presented as a genuine new beginning for organic evolution of the Stormont apparatus into something resembling what we have today, cynically disrupted by the SDLP at the behest of the Irish government. Ramsay mourns the casual discarding of the olive branch offered by Faulkner in March 1971. But I have to say that he is the only writer of the period who I have read who identifies this as a particular missed opportunity; his account may well reflect the wishful thinking inside Faulkner’s office, but it doesn’t appear to have been communicated well to the rest of the world if so. A bit further on, his defence of internment, a decision made by Faulkner in August 1971 with Ramsay present at many of the crucial discussions, is deeply unconvincing even on its own terms.

Ramsay’s subsequent career is not as fascinating (he was out of the country in the crucial 1973-74 period), but he has a great supply of anecdotes and personal glimpses – arguing taxation policy with Prince Philip, trying to chase lost government papers which a junior minister thinks may have been fed to the pigs, Margaret Thatcher squeezing his knee. His move to Brussels came at a time when the Tories had just set up their own little group of MEPs, but at a time when they were the more pro-European of the two main British parties, and Ramsay was able to jockey the relatively small group into a position of greater importance without too much difficulty, to the point that he was able to win the tightest election ever for the presidency of the Parliament starting from a very low base (he recounts with justifiable glee how he managed to swing the crucial votes of Fianna Fáil and Jean-Marie Le Pen). In the mid-1990s, he was involved with the setting up of the EU’s special funding programme for community projects in the name of the peace process (of which in general he takes a rather jaded view).

He finishes with some reflections on the future of Ulster in a Europe which he expects to split into fast-track and associated states (the latter, he believes, to be a potential parking spot for Turkey, whose membership he opposes for somewhat peculiar reasons). He sees the Union with Britain as a busted flush, and urges a more secure bedding of Ulster Scots as a European cultural identity; and he also sees this as possible in a post-Paisley environment (Paisley being one of several individuals of whom he has nothing good to say). Interesting thoughts, though I don’t see the DUP approaching this question with much imagination. He has received the unlikely support of veteran leftie Eamonn McCann.

There are some irritating errors with foreign names, including one appalling footnote about NATO which is probably libellous, but in general it is a much more interesting book than the title and rather drab cover would suggest.

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August Books 35) Soul of the Age: the Life, Mind and World of William Shakespeare, by Jonathan Bate

I read Bates’ earlier book, The Genius of Shakespeare, at the end of last year, and very much enjoyed it; this didn’t grab me quite as much, but is still very good, concentrating on what Shakespeare’s works tell us about his environment – cultural, political and intellectual – rather than on the man and his legacy as in the earlier book. It is organised around the Seven Ages of Man speech, which gives a nice thematic progression. The chapters on the Essex rebellion of 1601, and on Shakespeare’s education and philosophy, are particularly worth reading. (It is certainly a book where you can dip in and out for particular chapters.)

I was puzzled therefore by a couple of gaps in the story. There is a good discussion of astrology and astronomy (Shakespeare was clearly a sceptic of horoscopes), but no mention of witchcraft or other aspects of the supernatural, which is a pretty huge lacuna – from Joan La Pucelle and the sorcerous Duchess in Henry VI 1 and 2, to the deities performing in The Tempest, unearthly powers are never far away. The other area which struck me listening especially to the later plays (though perhaps it doesn’t fit Bate’s intellectual scheme) is Shakespeare’s use of music, song and dance as an integral part of the play.

Still, a useful addition to the Shakespeare section of the bookshelf.

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Three Doctor Who audiobooks

All three of these are rather good, and all seemed to me to succeed by not trying too hard. The Eyeless has the Doctor on his own, the other two feature Donna. In all three cases I listened to an abridged audio version, but I imagine that the full dead tree original is also worth picking up.

August Books 32) The Eyeless, by Lance Parkin

A rather effective story of the Doctor landing on a devastated planet, with confused and conspiring human factions, deadly robots and a young girl who is a lot more sinister than she first appears to be. Read by Russell Tovey who is very good at characterising the different speakers.

August Books 33) Beautiful Chaos, by Gary Russell

This I think is the best New Series Adventure I have yet come across. The audiobook is narrated by Bernard Cribbins, and Wilf Mott is a central character in the story which takes the Doctor and Donna back to contemporary London, dealing with the Noble family’s complex dynamics, and also with an old enemy (who also featured in the excellent second series of Sarah Jane audios, and whose presence is signalled by the introduction of a character called Dara Morgan). The astronomy is a bit off, but this is not a textbook. Strongly recommended.

August Books 34) Ghosts of India, by Mark Morris

Another pretty decent story featuring Ten and Donna, this time in India on the eve of independence, encountering Gandhi and competing aliens trying to take over and use the locals for their own purposes. I’m not totally familiar with Indian history of the period but this didn’t seem to me to have any obvious howlers. Two minor irritations: Morris continually refers to the sonic screwdriver as the “sonic”, and David Troughton reading it is not totally sure of Ten’s accent. But it’s generally good.

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August Books 31) Back Home, by Michelle Magorian

A slightly grim tale of 12-year-old Virginia, known as Rusty, who returns to her family in England in 1945 after five years in America, and finds huge difficulty in settling in (to her mother’s distress, she refers to America as “back home”n hence the title) and then faces further trauma of a repressive boarding school and her parents’ disintegrating marriage. Oddly paced in places, but has the courage of its convictions.

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August Books 30) Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen

It is not so long since I first read this, but in the meantime I have read three other Austen novels so now have a basis of comparison.

Pride and Prejudice is much the best for my money. This is largely because of the strength of Elizabeth Bennet as a protagonist, and the portrayal of the other characters, especially the somewhat endearing hopelessness of most of the Bennet family. Also, Austen gets the mix between mocking the conventions of the day and actual plot pretty much right. Elizabeth is surprisingly self-confident for her age and given her family dynamics, but of course great stories are often written about unusual people. Darcy is also rather a paragon of enlightened beneficence, despite his occasional good-faith mistakes, but again he is a romantic male lead. The plot is tight and simple. All good stuff.

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August Books 29) Galileo’s Daughter: A Drama of Science, Faith and Love, by Dava Sobel

Galileo was born in 1564, two months before Shakespeare, but he outlived the English playwright by 26 years. Indeed, if Galileo too had died in 1616, he would be remembered as a promising observer and mathematician, killed off shortly after a theological rebuke came his way from Cardinal Bellarmine – his only major work then published was The Starry Messenger, with the Dialogue Concerning the Two World Systems, which caused his biggest difficulties with the Church, not completed until 1632.

I have never been completely convinced by the revisionist story that one often gets (including from such unlikely quarters as Thomas Henry Huxley) that Galileo basically brought his condemnation by the Inquisition on himself. The story is a complex one and tends to get told as one of patronage politics gone wrong. Sobel, rightly in my view, brings us back to the scientific truth of Galileo’s observations; and whatever the reasoning and motives for Pope Urban VIII’s pursuit of him, the fact remains that the ecclesiastical authorities were given all the right information and came up with the wrong answer, and while Sobel doesn’t rub it in, she doesn’t veer from the central point either.

The central point is not, in fact, Galileo’s daughter; the title of the book is misleading. Galileo’s life is very charmingly illustrated by the letters he received from his daughter Sister Maria Celeste, born in 1600, over the period from 1623 to her early death in 1634, which of course cover the key moments of his own career. I shall always now think of him gardening in his leather jacket. But I think Sobel misses an opportunity to reflect on the life prospects of women like Galileo’s daughters, immured in the Poor Clares convent in their early teens – and their mother, who bore the scientist three children before marrying someone else. It is a necessary but absent piece of context.

Still, the book is a very good example of how to take a particular motherlode of primary source material and weave a good story around it.

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Latest books meme

The rubric to this one goes, "The BBC believes most people will have only read 6 of the 100 books here. How do your reading habits stack up? Instructions: Copy and bold those you have read." I’m not sure where the BBC made this statement, and the list bears a close resemblance to the BBC Big Read of a few years back. But anyway, here goes, with the additional strikingthrough of books I didn’t like:

1 Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series – JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four – George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations – Charles Dickens
11 Little Women – Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 – Joseph Heller

14 Complete Works of Shakespeare (have read all the plays, but not all the poetry)
15 Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong – Sebastian Faulk
18 Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveler’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch – George Eliot

21 Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby – F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House – Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis
34 Emma – Jane Austen
35 Persuasion – Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – CS Lewis
(odd to have it listed separately from Narnia…)
37 The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh – AA Milne
41 Animal Farm – George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez

44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney – John Irving
45 The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies – William Golding
50 Atonement – Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi – Yann Martel
52 Dune – Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen

55 A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time – Mark Haddon

60 Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
62 Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History – Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road – Jack Kerouac

67 Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick – Herman Melville

71 Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens
72 Dracula – Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island – Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses – James Joyce
76 The Inferno – Dante
77 Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome

78 Germinal – Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession – AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple – Alice Walker

84 The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
87 Charlotte’s Web – EB White

88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks
94 Watership Down – Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole

96 A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet – William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables – Victor Hugo

83 read, three partially, 14 not yet.

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August Books 28) Sacred Visions, edited by Andrew M. Greeley and Michael Cassutt

The subtitle of this anthology is “Award-winning SF with Catholic Themes”, and it’s almost accurate – a couple of the stories did win awards, and most of them are at least loosely related to Catholicism. But I think that description rather undersells the collection, which is in general very good, and which really addresses the intersection between religion and science fiction from a number of different directions, not all of them obviously Catholic in sensibility; Robert Silverberg’s “The Pope of the Chimps”, for instance, looks at non-human religion. (I believe that all the other authors here are in fact Catholics, with the possible exception of Nancy Kress.)

Several other classics are included: “The Quest for Saint Aquin”, by Anthony Boucher; “A Case of Conscience” (the original short story, which is the first and best section of the novel) by James Blish; “A Canticle for Leibowitz” (the original version, much improved by the author for the novel) by Walter M. Miller. There are also a couple of good original stories by Gene Wolfe and Jack McDevitt.

I got a lot more out of this collection than I did from the collection of Jewish sf which I read last year, and I don’t think it is just because I am Catholic rather than Jewish. The editors here have consciously sought stories that engage intellectually with religion, rather than being based on cultural stereotypes (though admittedly the latter are not completely absent). I think this anthology would be much appreciated by any sf reader with an interest in religion and a basic knowledge of Christianity, and it’s a bit unfortunate that it was marketed solely to Catholics.

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August Books 27) How The Mind Works, by Steven Pinker

I was really disappointed by this book. Pinker starts out by claiming that he will explain the origins of human emotions, aesthetics, and belief in the context of the latest findings of evolutionary and psychological research. He does not really succeed in doing so. It is a succession of moderately interesting research reports, linked together with a glue of neat one-liners (mostly other people’s), but without really coming to a killer conclusion and indeed occasionally resorting to sheer polemic (eg on gender). The section on neural networks is particularly dull, especially as Pinker admits that living brains don’t actually function that way.

I found precisely two points of interest in the book, both pretty tangential to the main thrust of the argument. First, of interest only to those who also know her, is that an old family friend is mentioned in passing on the development of children’s minds. Second, of more general interest, is the observation that all cultures tend to design ornamental gardens with unconscious reference to the primeval African savannah – lawns and flowerbeds interrupted by carefully placed features. Rather a pleasing thought! This observation is not Pinker’s own, but he does give pretty full citations for it which the interested reader can follow up.

I hear that Pinker’s other books are better, so shall continue to look out for them though without particular enthusiasm.

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