The woman in the wheelchair hummed towards the receptionist’s station. ‘Iris Beckstein, to see Dr. Darling. He’s expecting me.’ She smiled at the secretary: the self-assured smile of the financially secure.
This is a compilation and revision of what were originally the fifth and sixth volumes of this series, following on from The Bloodline Feud and The Traders’ War, and laying the ground for the first in the next series, Empire Games. It is a very good romp through a slightly alternate early-noughties America, twinned with a couple of parallel universes where history worked out differently; in all three there are rapid and drastic changes of government, with extraordinary violence in our own world and a rapid turnover of US leadership. Stross maintains his fascination with economics and the management of intelligence services, and his central figure remains a largely sympathetic character trying to improve the worlds that she lives in but also getting to grips with her own limits. I may go back to Empire Games now, and look for the rest in the series. You can get it here.
This was my top unread book acquired in 2017. Next on that pile is Dawn of the New Everything: A Journey Through Virtual Reality, by Jaron Lanier.
This was also the first book I finished this month, posting this review on the 13th.
‘But I’ve been offered a place at Sussex University,’ said Cara. She wore a white loopback cotton sweater and pre-distressed, wide-cut jeans with no socks. For two years her OCEAN Personality Test Score had been 40 89 15 60 90, within a tolerance of 0.4%.
Marginalised non-humans trying to integrate into our society. Two and a half narrative strands that did not really add up. Omnipresent narrator has weird obsession with precise measurements, including of characters’ personalities. I didn’t like it all that much, but you can get it here.
I don’t seem to have written anything about The Rings of Akhaten when it was first broadcast in 2013, nor did I pick is as one of my essential Twelfth Doctor watches in my 2017 guide to New Who. Both on first watching and on rewatching ten years later, I enjoyed it without especially loving it. It’s Clara’s first proper adventure as a companion, after several previous appearances, and I like the variety of alien races and the back-story for Clara, while regretting that more wasn’t made of either of these in the continuity. Emilia Jones rather glows as the main guest actor, in a story filmed when she was ten years old. She went on to star in an Oscar-winning film (CODA). I am less wild about planet-sized (let alone star-sized) evil aliens. Like I said, I enjoyed it without especially loving it.
It has not been adapted for print, and no subsequent adventure in TV or other media has returned to Akhaten. Several of the alien species have been seen again, notably as exhibits in Nightmare in Silver, and the story itself is moored into the wider continuity by the Doctor’s remark that he had previously visited Akhaten with his granddaughter. (And one of the alien races is a Hooloovoo, encountered differently in The Hitch-hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.)
William Shaw’s Black Archive monograph has really opened my eyes to what was actually going on in the story. and succeeded in making me feel that I need to give it another go to catch what I missed first time round. (Though I don’t think of myself as a careless watcher, so perhaps I should not take all the blame for my having missed some of these points.)
A brief introduction defends Shaw’s choice of The Rings of Akhaten to analyse, and introduces the themes of the book.
The first and longest chapter, “The Doctor as New Atheist”, jumps right in by looking at the impact of Richard Dawkins and other New Atheists on Doctor Who in the Russell T. Davies years (Dawkins himself actually appears on the show, of course) and examines how the Moffatt years saw a shift to a more measured engagement with gender, race, colonialism and indeed religion. The Rings of Akhaten is in fact a story about a religious ceremony, and the Doctor, coming in with a dismissive attitude to religion, is proved wrong several times. That’s a lot more interesting than I had realised.
The second chapter, “Clara, Merry, and the Most Important Leaf in Human History”, looks at the centrality of Clara and her relationship with Merry in the story, taking some time also for consideration of Murray Gold’s music and Orientalism by Edward Said. Again, I realised that there was more going on than I had noticed, especialiy if you consider the story’s place in Clara’s narrative arc.
The second paragraph of the third chapter, “Marks out of Akhaten” is:
This chapter therefore focuses on The Rings of Akhaten’s flaws, in terms of both its storytelling and its wider political context. In particular, it examines the episode’s relationship to some key concepts in postcolonial and feminist theory, and the ways in which it both exceeds, and ways in which it both exceeds, and tragically fulfils, the expectations of these schools of thought. None of this is to denigrate the episode. It is simply to argue that, while The Rings of Akhaten represents a positive step forward for Doctor Who, there are several ways in which it could have gone further.
I like very much that Shaw concedes that the story has flaws; some other Black Archive writers feel the need for total defence of their chosen story even when it’s a much worse story than The Rings of Akhaten. He mentions that its narrative beats are a bit uneven, which I agree with, and that there are not enough non-white actors, which I also agree with. He also looks at the disappointment felt by fans of writer Neil Cross’s previous career who may have expected something closer to the “gritty cop drama” Luther for which he is best known. I was not familiar with any of Cross’s non-Who work so that point passed me by.
The fourth chapter, “Anniversary Anxiety”, looks in a little more detail at the wider arc of story-telling in Moffat-era Who (though that phrase is not used), and how the story is one of the building bricks of the Clara narrative, interrogating and subverting what the show is actually about (ie the nature of the Doctor himself).
A brief conclusion explains Shaw’s own journey from sceptic to fan, having not enjoyed The Rings of Akhaten on first broadcast to realising its deeper significance.
An appendix asks whether Akhaten is a planet or a sun.
A second appendix has a decently long interview with the director, Farren Blackburn, explaining some of the artistic choices made during production.
A third appendix reproduces Blackburn’s “Director’s Statement”, his vision for the episode.
This is one of the longer Black Archives, but it really opened my mind to some of the aspects of the story that I wished I had caught for myself on watching. The last in this series that really excited me in the same way was Alyssa Franke’s monograph on Hell Bent. You may be able to get The Rings of Akhatenhere. (Or here.)
Standing in her kitchen with a glass of water in hand, which means he went through her cupboard to find it. His big hand out-stretched to touch the thyme growing behind the sink, in the patch of light that comes in from the emergency stairwell. He’s wearing a chain around his neck. At the end of it, a ring with a purple stone that she recognizes as his mother’s.
Young woman who is the tool of a dystopian surveillance state conspires to overthrow it. Has been done better elsewhere. You can get it here.
Current The Shape of Irish History, by A.T.Q. Stewart π3 The Robots of Death, by Fiona Moore Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, by Gabrielle Zevin
Last books finished φ3 A Brief History of Stonehenge, by Aubrey Burl K9 Megabytes, by Bob Baker Twelve Caesars: Images of Power from the Ancient World to the Modern, by Mary Beard Doctor Who and the Robots of Death, by Terrance Dicks β2
Next books The Pandorica Opens / The Big Bang, by Philip Bates City of Soldiers, by Kate Fearon The Cider House Rules, by John Irving
I enjoy cooking, but I don’t always have the time I would like for it. We have a lot of recipe books in the house, but there are four that I find myself returning to, usually to remind myself about old favourites, but sometimes to branch out a bit into new territory.
The Good Housekeeping Cookery Book, first published in 1948, was a wedding present almost thirty years ago. It’s still my go-to for reminders of how long to cook various types of meat. All the basic resipes are there, and a few more adventurous ones as well. (Last Saturday I tried out the one for baked trout, with success.) The version we have is available for a pound plus postage, and there is an updated Ultimate Recipe Collection as well.
The New Internationalist Food Book, by Troth Wells, was also a present, more recently, from my sister. We’ve found it very good at helping us to step outside the usual Euro-Atlantic comfort zone and sample recipes from Africa, Asia and Latin America – all made with standard enough ingredients, and simple to follow. You can get it here.
I first visited Georgia (the real place, not the American wannabe state) in 2003, and immediately became obsessed by the food; several of the recipes in this book are among my standards – chakhokhbili (chicken stew), sousi (beef stew), tevzis buglama (salmon stew), chanakhi (lamb stew), cauliflower satsivi (walnut sauce), pkhali (beetroot salad), lobio (beans with egg), all very yummy indeed. Khatchapuri is too cheesy for me, unfortunately, and I have not been successful with khinkali (dumplings). You can get The Georgian Feast here.
The much-missed Maureen Kincaid Speller recommended the Indian cookery writer Mridula Baljekar a couple of years ago, and I was lucky enough to score a copy of the Best Ever Indian Cookbook, which she co-authored. I love Indian food anyway, and will always settle for tipping a jar of curry sauce (korma, jalfrezi or whatever) into the pot. But there’s something very satisfying about doing it from first principles. You can get the Best Ever Indian Cookbook here; I see it’s rather expensive now, even second hand, so I must have simply been lucky.
Happy cooking, folks. I must admit that I do it much more willingly and imaginatively when I have people to cook for; the advantages of family life.
This is the latest post in a series I started in late 2019, anticipating the twentieth anniversary of my bookblogging at the end of October 2023. Every six-ish days, I’ve been revisiting a month from my recent past, noting work and family developments as well as the books I read in that month. I’ve found it a pleasantly cathartic process, especially in recent circumstances. If you want to look back at previous entries, they are all tagged under bookblog nostalgia.
So, the first half of November 2021 wasa pretty good to me. We started with a family expedition to Modave, to see more of the ceilings of Jan Christiaan Hansche:
But I paid a price; in the corridors at Novacon, after twenty months of pandemic, I picked up a dose of COVID that put me in bed for sixteen days, as chronicled here. I don’t remember much about the rest of the month.
But I did read 31 books.
Non-fiction 6 (YTD 44) Paul: A Biography, by Tom Wright Building Healthy Boundaries: An Over-giver’s Guide to Knowing When to Say ‘Yes’ and How to Say ‘No’ in Relationships, by Helen Snape Image of the Fendahl, by Simon Bucher-Jones Ghost Light, by Jonathan Dennis A Beautiful Mind, by Sylvia Nasar Exploding School to Pieces: Growing Up With Pop Culture In the 1970s, by Mick Deal – did not finish
Non-genre 3 (YTD 27) The Ice Cream Army, by Jessica Gregson Summer, by Ali Smith Beautiful World, Where Are You, by Sally Rooney
Poetry 1 (YTD 5) The Lay of Aotrou and Itroun, by J R R Tolkien, ed. Verlyn Flieger
SF 13 (YTD 122) Not Before Sundown, by Johanna Sinisalo The Empire of Gold, by S.A. Chakraborty – did not finish The Eyre Affair, by Jasper Fforde The Burning God, by R.F. Kuang Camouflage, by Joe Haldeman Mortal Engines, by Philip Reeve River of Gods, by Ian McDonald Waste Tide, by Qiufan Chen Iron Council, by China Miéville – did not finish One Bright Star to Guide Them, by John C. Wright The Last Witness, by K.J. Parker [Tom Holt] The Last Defender of Camelot, by Roger Zelazny (2002) – did not finish Shanghai Sparrow, by Gaie Sebold
Doctor Who 5 (YTD 23, 31 inc comics and non-fiction) The Book of the War, ed. Lawrence Miles The HAVOC Files 3, ed. Andy Frankham-Allen The Witchfinders, by Joy Wilkinson Doctor Who and the Image of the Fendahl, by Terrance Dicks Doctor Who – Ghost Light, by Marc Platt
Comics 3 (YTD 37) Sweeney Todd & Other Stories, by Neil Gaiman The Story of Sex: From Apes to Robots, by Philippe Brenot and Laetitia Coryn Le dernier Atlas, Tome 3, by Fabien Vehlmann and Gwen de Bonneval
7,300 pages (YTD 67,900) 12/31 (YTD 111/262) by non-male writers (Snape, Nasar, Gregson, Smith, Rooney, Flieger, Sinisalo, Chakraborty, Kuang, Sebold, Wilkinson, Coryn; Gwen de Bonneval is male) 4/31 (YTD 41/262) by PoC (Nasar, Chakraborty, Kuang, Chen)
The best of these were two translated sf novels, Waste Tide by Qiufan Chen, which you can get here, and Not Before Sundown by Johanna Sinisalo, which you can get here; and Helen Snape’s very brief self-help book with a long title, Building Healthy Boundaries: An Over-giver’s Guide to Knowing When to Say ‘Yes’ and How to Say ‘No’ in Relationships, which you can get for free here.
I’m feeling a bit uncharitable so I’m going to call out three particularly poor books. The iBooks collection of Zelazny stories, The Last Defender of Camelot, insults the writer and the stories with appalling production values, at least for the ebook; you can get it here. Mick Deal’s Exploding School to Pieces, on 1970s TV, is superficial and poorly researched; you can get it here. And John C. Wright’s One Bright Star to Guide Them is derivative and disjointed, and not exactly subtle in its ideology; you can get it here.
Second paragraph of third story (“The Time-Tombs”, by J.G. Ballard):
Most of the time-tombs on the southern edge of the sand-sea had been stripped centuries earlier. But Shepley liked to saunter through the straggle of half-submerged pavilions, the warm ancient sand playing over his bare feet like wavelets on some endless beach. Alone among the flickering tombs, with the empty husks of the past ten thousand years, he could temporarily forget his nagging sense of failure.
An anthology of ten stories from the sf magazine Worlds of If, all published between 1963 and 1967, all by white men (though two at least were British). Several of these were familiar to me from their appearances in other collections, mostly chosen by their authors; the one exception, published only here and in its original magazine appearance, is a spooky-little-girl story, “Toys for Debbie”, by Dave Kyle, who is better remembered for his activities in fandom but published three authorised Lensman novels in the 1980s, ten short stories between 1941 and 1994, and contributed art including the cover of the first edition of Asimov’s Foundation. Most of these are effective enough, but there are noticeably few women (Brian Aldiss scores here, with his tough warrior girl in “In the Arena”).
My copy, the 1951 Sphere edition, has no table of contents or index, and clearly the publishers struggled to squish the material into 256 pages. You can get it here.
This was the sf book that had lingered longest on my unread shelves. Next up is an Ace double, Collision Course, by Robert Silverberg / Nemesis from Terra, by Leigh Brackett, half of which I have already read.
Now that the Clarke shortlist is out, I’m posting my brief notes on those books which were not shortlisted and which I do not intend to reread. In many cases it’s because I didn’t think the book was all that good, though often enough (including today) it was a decent enough book which just didn’t end up in the top six, or clearly not sf or not a novel and therefore not eligible. There are about a dozen that I do intend to get back to in due course, so I won’t be publishing my original notes about them here.And we’re starting with Braking Day, by Adam Oyebanji.
Second paragraph of third chapter:
The pattern began to disappear. Slowly at first, then ever faster under tendrils of green mold that spread across the surface until all that was left of the plate beneath was its shape. And soon, not even that. The mold kept growing. Thicker and higher, and thicker and higher, until it was reaching his face and forcing his mouth apart and putting roots down in his throat.
The first of the 98 books submitted for the Arthur C. Clarke Award which I read. A good example of the generation starship tale, which held together very well though there were a couple of twists that didn’t quite work for me. Debut novel, so will look forward to more from this writer. You can get it here.
I’ll do these Mondays to Fridays until I run out. That will take several months.
“J-Just to look,” sheu says, catchan the poynt o the yolewife’s quaistion. Sheu’s been raedan aboot the Wrack-Hofn’s mystery, aboot the yoles landan thair haal o Lights, aboot the stoor i the gowden tide, aboot the paece o distance,
aboot a uncan wey o spaekan, o wirkan, o pittan up wirds, o bidan, belongan, an waantid tae luk. But nou sheu’s askan the first body sheu saa i the dock fer the first directions, an habbers, fer the first time no kennan hoo tae explaen hersel.
The visitor, Darling, looks for a place to stay
“Just to look,” she says, catching the point of the boat worker’s question. She has been reading about the Wreck-Havenharbour’s mystery, about the boats landing their haulcatch of Lights, about the stormstrifestrainspeeddust in the golden seatimetide, about the peace of distance, about an unknownweird way of speaking, of working, of praying, of waitstayliving, belonging, and wanted to look. But now she’s asking the first bodyperson she saw in the dock for the first directions, and stammers, for the first time not knowing how to explain herself.
This won last year’s Arthur C. Clarke Award, for the best sf novel published in the UK in 2021. Rather unusually, it has the form of an epic poem in Orcadian, the language of the Orkney Islands, with English translation running along the lower half of each page. (Also unusually, it is the first part of the author’s PhD thesis.) It’s a love story between a local and a visitor in a spaceport where there are humans and aliens and general things of wonder. It’s actually quite short, and the plot as such is not original, but the characters and setting are very well drawn, in two languages.
And anyway the point is to shake us out of Anglophone complacency and to consider the value of less-spoken languages, and their potential for added nuance and expression, and giving us readers a broader experience of what the world can contain. It very much ticks the Philip K. Dick box, that good sf shouldn’t just be “What if…?” but “My God! What if…?” – in a very different way. I thought ti was fantastic from that point of view. You can get it here.
The other Clarke finalists that year were Hugo-winning A Desolation Called Peace, by Arkady Martine, which I read and hugely enjoyed; BSFA finalist Skyward Inn, by Aliya Whiteley, which I did not enjoy as much; and Klara and the Sun, by Kazuo Ishiguro, A River Called Time, by Courttia Newland and Wergen: The Alien Love War, by Mercurio D. Rivera, none of which I have read.
Second paragraph of third chapter (“Party Activists, Interest Groups and Polarization ion American Politics”, by David Karol):
In this chapter, I argue that activists and interest groups are key elements of political parties. Activists and party-aligned interest groups work within parties to advance their policy goals via candidate selection and lobbying elected officials. Unlike the formal party structure and some elements closely linked to it, activists and interest groups are a force for polarization. I review delegate and donor surveys as well as trends in interest group campaign contributions revealing evidence of polarization among activists and lobbies. Elected officials’ relationships with party activists and interest groups are not one-sided. Even more than highly informed voters, activists take cues from politicians, and interest group leaders are subject to pressure from elected officials. Still, evidence suggests that activists and party-linked interest groups promote polarization.
This was kindly given to me by co-editor James Thurber a few years ago. (Since you asked, I have worked out that he is the fifth cousin once removed of the humorist James Thurber.) It pulls together papers from a conference in May 2014, looking not only at the polarisation of American politics in Congress, but also at state legislatures, in the Supreme Court, in the media and in party structures. The situation was bad in 2014, and nine years later it looks worse.
The 18 essays come to some stark conclusions. The two parties are more ideologically distinct now than they have ever been, and the Republicans are further to the right than the Democrats are to the left. The political system incentivises pandering to your own hardliners rather than, y’know, actually governing. It is difficult to see any realistic path by which this can be reversed. Thomas Mann, in a foreword, suggests that a few more electoral defeats could be healthy for the Republicans and therefore for politics. I would point out that the Republican candidate for President has got more votes than the Democrat in precisely one of the eight elections since 1988, and it doesn’t seem to have chastened them.
I did wonder why some questions were not asked. From a European perspective, it’s actually not such a bad thing to have political parties that clearly represent different points of view. To me it seems that it’s not so much the ideological polarisation that is screwing American politics, it’s the culture of demonisation of political opponents, which actually goes back a long way but has got worse recently. European parties in general know that they may well have to work with each other in government after the election and so find politer ways of disagreement. (There are exceptions, of course.)
The other glaring omission, though it was not as obvious in 2014, is the surge of political violence in the USA, and its endorsement by leading figures on the right, most notably the 6 January 2021 coup attempt. Genteel analysis and numerical coding by academic observers rather pales into insignificance when you have an entire political party whose leadership has supported overthrowing the constitution by force.
Anyway, this is thought-provoking and depressing stuff, painting a gloomy picture which has turned out not to gloomy enough. You can get it here.
This was the non-fiction book that had lingered longest unread on my shelves. Next on that pile is City of Soldiers, by Kate Fearon.
Current A Brief History of Stonehenge, by Aubrey Burl Twelve Caesars: Images of Power from the Ancient World to the Modern, by Mary Beard K9 Megabytes, by Bob Baker φ3
Last books finished θ4 The Second ‘If’ Reader, ed. Fredrik Pohl The Rings of Akhaten, by William Shaw The Revolution Trade, by Charles Stross χ4 The Endless Song, by Nick Abadzis et al δ3
Next books The Shadowman, by Sharon Bidwell The Course of Irish History, by A.T.Q. Stewart Winter, by Ali Smith
Here is my photo of the 98 submitted books, in alphabetical order by title. (One was submitted electronically – see if you can spot the printed out cover.)
I’ve also checked the rankings of each of the submitted books on Goodreads and LibraryThing, noting the number of reported raters and owners respectively, and also the verage ranking on the two systems. As usual, the books are ranked by the geometric average of Goodreads and LibraryThing owners; I have bolded the top 19 in each column (which is almost a quintile, there being 98 books in total).
Goodreads
LibraryThing
raters
av rating
owners
av rating
Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin
354710
4.25
2082
4.12
Sea of Tranquility by Emily St. John Mandel
157847
4.12
2021
4.07
The Cartographers by Peng Shepherd
51616
3.65
1156
3.53
Upgrade by Blake Crouch
67902
3.82
813
3.74
The Anomaly by Hervé le Tellier
41415
3.83
900
3.73
The Kaiju Preservation Society by John Scalzi
34902
4.03
1007
3.95
The Candy House by Jennifer Egan
38202
3.68
846
3.78
How High We Go in the Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu
35442
3.86
694
3.84
To Paradise by Hanya Yanagihara
32809
3.79
668
3.83
The Daughter of Doctor Moreau by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
19317
3.62
508
3.69
Our Share of Night by Mariana Enriquez
18310
4.39
322
3.80
Fevered Star by Rebecca Roanhorse
11637
4.11
338
4.14
The World We Make by N. K. Jemisin
9509
4.15
412
4.16
Mickey⁷ by Edward Ashton
7575
3.79
213
3.76
Lost In Time by A G Riddle
12502
4.25
127
3.60
Eyes of the Void by Adrian Tchaikovsky
7774
4.22
187
4.06
Life Ceremony by Sayaka Murata
8551
3.78
168
3.85
Children of Memory by Adrian Tchaikovsky
7316
4.11
191
4.12
Eversion by Alastair Reynolds
5061
4.02
225
3.90
Poster Girl by Veronica Roth
6156
3.67
176
3.63
The Spare Man by Mary Robinette Kowal
3565
3.90
287
3.92
Tell Me an Ending by Jo Harkin
4650
3.63
220
3.81
The Violence by Delilah S. Dawson
5983
3.87
163
3.94
Leech by Hiron Ennes
3962
3.64
211
3.53
Glory by NoViolet Bulawayo
3261
3.74
195
3.67
The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings
3734
3.64
161
3.85
The Leviathan by Rosie Andrews
3611
3.56
155
3.81
Scattered All Over the Earth by Yōko Tawada
2713
3.40
161
3.59
The Furrows by Namwali Serpell
3055
3.27
112
3.08
Oval by Elvia Wilk
1694
3.38
116
2.96
The Red Scholar’s Wake by Aliette de Bodard
1192
3.26
158
4.00
Thrust by Lidia Yuknavitch
1456
3.55
99
3.14
Last Exit by Max Gladstone
1082
3.68
124
3.34
Speaking Bones by Ken Liu
1241
4.59
101
4.56
The Moonday Letters by Emmi Itaranta
1334
3.80
81
3.50
Vagabonds! by Eloghosa Osunde
1415
3.86
76
3.00
Stars and Bones by Gareth L. Powell
1188
3.68
74
3.29
Scary Monsters by Michelle de Kretser
1071
3.34
82
3.33
Until the Last of Me by Sylvain Neuvel
1195
3.83
71
3.63
City of Last Chances by Adrian Tchaikovsky
969
4.07
87
3.95
Venomous Lumpsucker by Ned Beauman
1236
3.83
67
3.83
Braking Day by Adam Oyebanji
1103
4.03
71
3.79
Bluebird by Ciel Pierlot
1074
3.91
72
3.57
The Men by Sandra Newman
1202
2.96
58
2.47
The Splendid City by Karen Heuler
468
3.03
132
2.81
Metronome by Tom Watson
1721
3.77
35
3.79
August Kitko and the Mechas from Space by Alex White
742
3.87
76
3.72
The Stars Undying by Emery Robin
605
3.59
87
3.70
The Shadow Glass by Josh Winning
811
4.11
52
3.69
The Immortality Thief by Taran Hunt
808
4.16
49
4.00
Mindwalker by Kate Dylan
812
4.16
42
4.00
The Circus Infinite by Khan Wong
471
3.64
50
3.67
The This by Adam Roberts
339
3.87
61
3.91
Pod by Laline Paull
611
3.65
33
4.10
Neom by Lavie Tidhar
307
3.97
62
4.27
Full Immersion by Gemma Amor
384
3.86
45
3.75
Beyond the Burn Line by Paul McAuley
325
3.60
51
3.69
The Thousand Earths by Stephen Baxter
497
3.93
33
3.00
A Sh*tload of Crazy Powers by Jackson Ford
582
4.25
23
4.10
36 Streets by T.R. Napper
478
4.00
25
3.75
The Chosen Twelve by James Breakwell
431
3.64
27
4.13
Azura Ghost by Essa Hansen
314
4.17
33
3.07
Momenticon by Andrew Caldecott
287
3.78
29
3.50
The Last Storm by Tim Lebbon
308
3.68
26
4.00
Stringers by Chris Panatier
317
3.77
25
3.50
A Fractured Infinity by Nathan Tavares
198
3.57
29
3.00
The Flight of the Aphrodite by S J Morden
275
3.85
20
3.83
Mercury Rising by R.W.W. Greene
221
3.77
24
3.75
Expect Me Tomorrow by Christopher Priest
119
3.61
36
4.17
Deep Dive by Ron Walters
238
3.77
18
4.13
Glitterati by Oliver K. Langmead
183
3.72
21
3.92
Off-Target by Eve Smith
403
4.08
8
–
Lambda by David Musgrave
159
3.27
20
2.67
Wormhole by Eric Brown and Keith Brooke
167
3.8
17
3.92
Plutoshine by Lucy Kissick
145
4.06
18
3.38
Equinox by David Towsey
263
3.45
9
–
Where it Rains in Color by Denise Crittendon
99
3.80
23
2.50
HellSans by Ever Dundas
161
3.67
14
3.00
Love And Other Human Errors by Bethany Clift
398
4.38
5
5.00
Ion Curtain by Anya Ow
86
3.49
12
4.00
The Key to Fury by Kristin Cast
83
3.78
11
–
The Fish by Joanne Stubbs
78
3.69
6
3.50
Appliance by J.O. Morgan
63
3.56
7
–
Ricky’s Hand by David Quantick
90
3.73
4
–
The Ends by James Smythe
44
4.14
7
4.33
The Quickening by Talulah Riley
134
2.92
2
–
The Coral Bones by E.J. Swift
19
4.53
8
–
Outcast by Louise Carey
44
4.05
3
–
New Brighton by Helen Trevorrow
43
3.84
2
–
The Mars Migration by Wayne M. Bailey
17
4.71
2
5.00
Hangdog Souls by Marc Joan
12
4.58
2
4.00
The Transfer Problem by Adam Saint
17
3.94
1
–
The Visitors by Owen W Knight
9
4.33
1
–
Titan Blue by M.B. Fox
4
4.75
1
–
Harpan’s Worlds: Worlds Apart by Terry Jackman
1
3.00
1
–
Stray Pilot by Douglas Thompson
0
–
2
–
Prophets of the Red Night by Sophie McKeand
0
–
1
–
The Hunt – For Allies by David Adams
0
–
1
–
I crunched these numbers a couple of weeks ago, and they won’t have changed much in the meantime. I make it 48 by writers who are not men, and 23 by writers who are not white. But my statistics are not authoritative.
This is in no way a guide to the shortlist or the winner, but it does show the extent to which the novels submitted have permeated popular consciousness, at least in the universe of Goodreads and LibraryThing users.
As previously noted, we took the Whitsun / Pentecost / Pinksteren weekend in the Netherlands for some low-key tourism, the most high-energy part of which was the Amsterdam church tour recommended by Cate Desjardins. To get the basics oout of the way:
We stayed in the Schiphol Airport Hampton by Hilton, in the outskirts of the town of Hoofddorp, across the road from the railway station and just off the motorway. Very comfortable room and decent breakfast. Half the price of similar hotels in the city.
Friday dinner: nipped across the road to the Novotel for the Gourmet Bar, very acceptable. Saturday coffee:Aran’s Irish Pub, between Max Euwe Plein and Singelgracht. Saturday lunch: McDonald’s, I’m afraid. (Damrak 8, near the Nieuwe Kerk) Saturday snack:De Koffieschenkerij, beside the Oude Kerk. Saturday dinner: we ventured into Hoofddorp which turns out to be an atrtactive enough dormitory town, and ended up at the Tandoori Lounge which was absolutely fine. Sunday coffee: at the English Reformed Church, Amsterdam Sunday lunch:De Wachtlokaal, a cheerful cafe near the station in Haarlem; my salad was huge. Sunday snack:Cleef Frans Hals, the museum cafe in Haarlem. Sunday dinner: I was determined not to leave the Netherlands without a rijsttafel, and found one at Sari in Heemstede, 10 km from our hotel. Monday lunch: Fantastic pancakes at ‘t Hoogstraatje on a square in Nijmegen. Monday snack:Eis Cafe Riva in Kleve.
On Saturday and Sunday we travelled to Amsterdam and Haarlem by train, and then drove to Heemstede that evening, and Nijmegen and Kleve on Monday.
So, what did we do? One thing that didn’t work out was my original plan to visit the Rijksmuseum. We had already completely missed the Vermeer exhibition, which apparently sold out in a couple of hours after the tickets became available. And it turns out that the rest of the Rijksmuseum is so popular that you need to book several days in advance just to get to the permanent exhibition. So we struck out on both Saturday and Sunday.
On Saturday, as mentioned, we did the church tour and on Sunday we went back to the English Reformed Church (which is in fact run by the Church of Scotland) as it had been closed the previous day, and mingled with the congregation drinking coffee.
We then took the train to Haarlem, to visit the Frans Hals Museum. Misleadingly, it doesn’t have all that much art by Frans Hals, though it does have some, including all of his surviving group portraits (one currently on loan from the Riksmuseum). It does have a very rich store of European art from his day onwards, including this Bosch-like Temptation of St Anthony by Jan Mandijn:
From more modern times, I very much liked this Standing Nude by Theo van Rysselberghe, a Belgian painter who tried pointillism and then tried nudes, this one dating from the crossover point. (I have not found another image of this particular painting online, though there are plenty of the same model painted nude by van Rysselnerghe in different poses.)
We spent most of the afternoon atthe museum and could easily have spent longer. The cafe was good too.
The next day was Open Church Day in the Netherlands, and we discovered that another church with decorations by Jan Dunselman was open for visitors in Nijmegen. This is the furthest from Amsterdam of any of his churches, the only other outlier being his home town of Den Helder.
In the Church of the Nativity of Mary in Nijmegen, Dunselman again did the Stations of the Cross, similar and also different to the ones in the Basilica of St Nicholas in Amsterdam. Compare the two takes on “Jesus Falls the Third Time”, Nijmegen above, Amsterdam below.
The walls are also decorated with various saints offering their approval. My eye was caught by the two St Catherines. Are you Team Alexandria, or Team Siena?
We walked to the centre of Nijmegen, past a lovely ruined chapel, and had lunch outside at a pancake restaurant on the square.
Our final stop was across the German border, at the Church of the Assumption by the Kleiner Markt in Kleve. This interests me not so much for what is there but for what is no longer there. The white building on the right is on the site of the inn “Zum Grossen Kurfürst” which featured several stucco ceiling by my favourite seventeenth-century stuccador, Jan Christian Hansche. It was destroyed during the second world war.
Anne *in* Cleves, not Anne *of* Cleves
There is some striking sculpture in the square, the “Fountain of Fools” in the middle:
And by the church, the Fallen Warrior by Ewald Matare, erected in 1934, removed and broken up by the Nazis in 1938, and restored in 1981.
The church itself is rather pretty inside, with some medieval artwork that must have survived elsewhere, but I don’t seem to have taken any photos. We had a little look around Kleve and had a final snack in a square whose fountain boasts another remarkable sculpture by Karl-Hennig Seemann, commemorating local legendary boy Lohengrin:
This is the latest post in a series I started in late 2019, anticipating the twentieth anniversary of my bookblogging at the end of October 2023. Every six-ish days, I’ve been revisiting a month from my recent past, noting work and family developments as well as the books I read in that month. I’ve found it a pleasantly cathartic process, especially in recent circumstances. If you want to look back at previous entries, they are all tagged under bookblog nostalgia.
My two major excitements were the dorpfeest at the start of the month (described in the “540 days of plague” post below), and a Saturday excursion to Roman re-enactment sites in Belgium and the Netherlands.
The month ended with F getting pinged for COVID, but I’m glad to say that he had no symptoms and the rest of us escaped, on that occasion at least.
I read 29 books that month.
Non-fiction 3 (YTD 30) Rose, by Jon Arnold The Massacre, by James Cooray Smith Gods and Tulips, by Neil Gaiman
Non-genre 3 (YTD 22) Jack, by Marilynne Robinson Kipps, by H. G. Wells 4.50 from Paddington, by Agatha Christie
Scripts 1 (YTD 3) Great Glowing Coils of the Universe, by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor
Poetry (mostly) 1 (YTD 4) Love, Fishie, by Maddy Gaiman
SF 11 (YTD 94) Zodiac Station, by Tom Harper The Return of the Discontinued Man, by Mark Hodder – did not finish Hurricane Fever, by Tobias S. Buckell The Man Who Walked Through Walls, by Marcel Aymé Felaheen, by Jon Courtenay Grimwood The Bloodline Feud, by Charles Stross “The Saturn Game”, by Poul Anderson Dominion: An Anthology of Speculative Fiction from Africa and the African Diaspora, eds. Zelda Knight & Ekpeki Oghenechovwe Donald Set This House in Order: A Romance of Souls, by Matt Ruff The Rain-Soaked Bride, by Guy Adams Mama Bruise, by Jonathan Carroll
Doctor Who 5 (YTD 13, 17 inc non-fiction and comics) Angel of Mercy, by Julianne Todd, Claire Bartlett and Iain McLaughlin Blood of Atlantis, by Simon Forward The Ruby’s Curse, by Alex Kingston Doctor Who: Rose, by Russell T. Davies Doctor Who: The Massacre, by John Lucarotti
Comics and art books 5 (YTD 34) Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts, by Rebecca Hall and Hugo Martínez Retour sur Aldébaran, Épisode 2, by Leo Retour sur Aldébaran, Épisode 3, by Leo De Walvisbibliotheek, by Judith Vanistendael and Zidrou Reflected, ed. Peter de Rijcke
The best of these were Tiptree-winning Set This House in Order, which you can get here, graphic historical account Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts, which you can get here, and Night Vale scripts Great Glowing Coils of the Universe, which you can get here.
On the other hand, I totally bounced off The Return of the Discontinued Man, which you can get here.
When I can stand without wobbling, I walk. The row behind me a dusty dream. I started out in one of the bigger houses hidden in the dense jungles of the Park, where Angela and Kimberly live now. Sometimes on a really hot or busy day, or if I’ve had one too many, I forget I don’t live there anymore. My feet walk me right up into the Park grounds where I lived with Graham, and Lee when he came home, in a house that looked over the bushy rear of the dingo enclosure. Back then, Graham did the Park’s maintenance and I had a cleaning job doing the toilets, the café, the gift shop, and all the offices. Used to read the manager’s emails for a laugh. I know exactly how much shit the Park was in before our Ange took over. It was a good life after being on the road so long. Me and Graham grew a bit of sneaky marijuana in the roof of the house. He could fix anything that didn’t have a heart, and our Lee dropped out of high school and went up to the city to play bongo drums and pick up backpackers. He’d come down to the Park on the weekends and test his charms out on the rangers — until he got Angela in trouble and it all went balls up. We battled it out until Kimberly was born, then Graham fucked off back down south and Lee followed him. Me back in the workforce as a guide and moved out to the row. Ange, a single parent with a good head on her shoulders. We do alright.
Again, an Arthur C. Clarke Award winner, this time from two years ago. I thought this was very enjoyable indeed, though also rather grim with its theme of eco-catastrophe in Australia. The central character is a middle-aged woman sharing the care of her granddaughter with her estranged son’s ex, who is also her boss. Plague hits the population, thematic for a 2020 novel, though not as inconvenient as COVID with the side benefit of enabling communication with animals. And the animals are not anthropomorphised; they are just about comprehensible in their own way. The human and natural landscapes of Australia are evocatively portrayed, and I can see why it appealed to that year’s judges. Recommended. You can get it here.
The other finalists were Chilling Effect, by Valerie Valdes; Edge of Heaven, by R. B. Kelly; The Infinite, by Patience Agbabi; Vagabonds, by Hao Jingfang and The Vanished Birds, by Simon Jimenez. I have only read the last of these, as the author was up for the Astounding Award that year, but lost to Emily Tesh. (I really liked it.) Apart from that, none of the six was on the final ballot for the Hugo, Nebula, Otherwise or BSFA Awards. The Animals in that Country did win the Aurealis Award, but lost the Ditmar to The Left-Handed Booksellers of London, by Garth Nix.
Non-fiction 5 (YTD 32) Johnson at 10: the Inside Story, by Anthony Seldon and Raymond Newell The John Nathan-Turner Doctor Who Production Diary, 1979-90, by Richard Molesworth American Gridlock, eds. James Thurber and Antoine Yoshinaka Vengeance on Varos, by Jonathan Dennis The Rings of Akhaten, by William Shaw
Poetry 1 (YTD 3) Deep Wheel Orcadia, by Harry Josephine Giles
SF 13 (YTD 100) Creation Machine, by Andrew Bannister ω4 α5 (did not finish) Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett β5 (did not finish) ψ4 The Race, by Nina Allan A Marvellous Light, by Freya Marske The Shape of Sex to Come, ed. Douglas Hill The Old Drift, by Namwali Serpell The Animals in That Country, by Laura Jean McKay θ4 The Second ‘If’ Reader, ed. Fredrik Pohl
Doctor Who 3 (YTD 16) Home Fires Burn, by Gareth Madgwick Doctor Who – Vengeance on Varos, by Philip Martin Sil and the Devil Seeds of Arodor, by Philip Martin
Comics 1 (YTD 9) The Fountains of Forever, by Nick Abadzis et al
7,000 pages (YTD 39,700) 9/23 (YTD 66/165) by non-male writers (Giles, ω4, β5, ψ4, Allan, Marske, Serpell, McKay, Casagrande/Florean) 3/23 (YTD 26/165) by a non-white writer (Yoshinaka, ψ4, Serpell) 380 books currently tagged “unread”, 9 down from last month
Reading now The Revolution Trade, by Charles Stross χ4 A Brief History of Stonehenge, by Aubrey Burl
Coming soon (perhaps) The Endless Song, by Nick Abadzis et al K9 Megabytes, by Bob Baker The Shadowman, by Sharon Bidwell Doctor Who and the Robots of Death, by Terrance Dicks The Robots of Death, by Fiona Moore The Pandorica Opens / The Big Bang, by Philip Bates The Shape of Irish History, by A.T.Q. Stewart City of Soldiers, by Kate Fearon Collision Course, by Robert Silverberg / Nemesis from Terra, by Leigh Brackett World’s Fair 1992, by Robert Silverberg Twelve Caesars: Images of Power from the Ancient World to the Modern, by Mary Beard Winter, by Ali Smith The Cider House Rules, by John Irving The Memory Librarian, by Janelle Monáe “Bears Discover Fire”, by Terry Bisson Ancient, Ancient, by Kiini Ibura Salaam Partitions irlandaises, by Vincent Baily and Kris One Bible Many Voices, by S E Gillingham Falling to Earth, by Al Worden The Outcast, by Louise Cooper Love and Mr Lewisham, by H.G. Wells The Man Who Died Twice, by Richard Osman DALEKS Living with the Gods, by Neil MacGregor A Brief History of Everyone Who Ever Lived, by Adam Rutherford Wyrd Sisters, by Terry Pratchett Dawn of the New Everything: A Journey Through Virtual Reality, by Jaron Lanier
I watched Vengeance on Varos on first broadcast in 1985, and was frankly bored and appalled by it. (Actually I have only a clear memory of the first episode; I may have missed the second.) The start, with a prisoner being tortured and the Doctor / Peri relationship in a deep trough, was not promising.
I remember catching the first scenes of Vengeance on Varos first time round, where Jason Connery’s Jondar is unpleasantly tortured as an audience looks on, and then the Tardis breaks down and the Doctor decides it can’t be fixed. At that point I gave up and went away to do something else. Well, I misjudged it slightly. The torture scenes are unnecessarily unpleasant, and Colin Baker’s portrayal as annoying as before, but the rest of the story is not bad, Martin Jarvis and Nabil Shaban being especially good. Having said which, the scene with Peri turning into a bird is a bit crap.
There’s a decent story in Vengeance on Varos, and particularly some good guest performances by Martin Jarvis, Nabil Shaban, and Sheila Read who plays Etta, and decent special effects at a period when these were sometimes a bit embarrassing. But it is rather spoiled for me by the violence, which I am now realising is a consistent problem with this season; by the silly subplot of Peri being turned into a bird and then magically cured in about five seconds; and by a number of under-rehearsed scenes where actors stand around with their hands limply at their sides, always a bit of a red flag for me.
However, it’s still a rather stupid story. To add to my complaints above, it’s weird and a bit dehumanising that The Governor and The Chief Officer don’t have names. More trivially, when the Doctor is supposedly dead to all appearances during the cliff-hanger at the end of the first episode and the start of the second, Colin Baker is visibly still breathing.
The novelisation is also by Philip Martin, and the second paragraph of its third chapter is:
“I just won’t look!” Peri said, clenching her eyes shut but feeling the stiff vulpine feathers that had now emerged almost fully all over her arms.
(Philip Martin, Doctor Who – Vengeance on Varos)
Vulpine feathers, eh?
With extra irony, the chief villain is given to malapropisms due to a faulty translation unit. The omniscient narrator has no such excuse!
I was interested to note that the cliff-hanger comes relatively early in the book, a good ten pages before the half-way point. Otherwise the book is a safe transformation from screen to print. You can get it here.
Before I get into Jonathan Dennis’s Black Archive, I just want to look at the later career of Sil. I’m actually rather a fan of Mindwarp, the second part of Trial of a Time Lord, with its shock ending for poor Peri (foolishly revoked six episodes later). Mission to Magnus, the unbroadcast story from the cancelled 1986 season, failed to impress me either in print or on audio. I was much more impressed by an original Big Finish audio by Martin, Antidote to Oblivion.
And for this post, I sought out and read Martin’s novel Sil and the Devil Seeds of Arodor, based on a direct-to-video film which I have not seen (though apparently Jeremy Corbyn got a copy from Nabil Shaban). The second paragraph of the third chapter is:
The profit chamber on Thoros Beta monitored the progress of its multiple investments throughout the universe. Thoros Betans were hunched over display panels giving the latest profit and loss values, and muttered voices echoed in the corridors as fortunes were made . . . and sometimes lost.
It’s not very good. Sil and Lord Kiv get caught up in a plot to sell dangerously addictive drugs to the people of earth (specifically the “Eurozone”, whose boundaries are not defined). Lots of characterful screeching, but as so often, the plot is just nasty for the sake of being nasty. You can get it here.
Jonathan Dennis, who previously wrote the Black Archive on Ghost Light (incidentally, the first Black Archive that I didn’t really care for), has mounted a detailed but ultimately unconvincing defence of Vengeance on Varos.
The first chapter, “Introduction – In Poor taste”, defends the aesthetic and tonal changes made to Doctor Who for the 1985 season, and asserts that they work. I think a more nuanced view is possible.
The second chapter, “Winston Smith Takes it on the Jaw”, looks at dystopias, especially 1984, and at the uncharacteristic (for Doctor Who) pessimism of the story.
The third chapter, “Capital (It Fails Us Now)”, looks at the critique of capitalism and to a lesser extent colonialism in the story, and in other Who stories (including Kerblam!). The second paragraph is:
Keeping this history in mind, it stands out when looking into the production of Vengeance on Varos that ‘producer John Nathan-Turner was wary, fearing that Philip Martin might inject political comment into the storyline.’4 Martin said, ‘He suspected I had some sort of political aim in mind, and so he insisted I prove myself first by doing a scene breakdown.’5 4 Pixley, ‘The DWM Archive: Vengeance on Varos’, p17. 5 Bentham, Jeremy, ‘Keep Watching!’ In-Vision #80 p4.
The fourth chapter, “‘They Also Affect Dogs’ – Sadism and Video Nasties”, looks at the moral panic around video nasties in the mid-80s, in the context of the horror genre in general and Videodrome in particular. Dennis finds a smidgeon of regret that the music cue in the acid bath scene is handled badly, and that Peri is exploited worse than usual here.
The fifth and final chapter, “Who Speaks for the Audience? – Conclusion” makes the fairly obvious point that Arak and Etta to some extent stand for us the audience.
An appendix, “6 Times 2 Equals 12”, makes some very interesting paralells between the Sixth and Twelfth Doctors:
The obvious similarity is in the Doctor’s character arc. Both eras feature a gruff, arrogant Doctor who gradually smooths out and becomes more (conventionally) likeable. In the sixth Doctor’s case that arc is unfortunately truncated due to real-world circumstances outside the narrative. It was a good concept in the Colin Baker era and Moffatt is able to bring it to its proper conclusion with Peter Capaldi.
Aside from this general similarity of the character arc, many of the details are echoed as well. Baker and Capaldi both appeared on the show prior to being cast as the Doctor…
The Doctor and Clara bicker. It doesn’t come off quite as harshly as comparable scenes between the sixth Doctor and Peri, but that’s down to the dialogue being funnier…
The first full years of both Baker and Capaldi’s tenure end with stories heavy on body horror, set in funeral homes where the Doctor’s old enemies are recreated with human corpses as the raw material. There’s even similar imagery, of the glass Dalek and the transparent Cybermen in tanks. They both have companions who die – Capaldi gets two – and all those companions get those deaths negated in some way…
Capaldi gets the all-black outfit that Colin Baker wanted, and it does serve as a visual reminder of the severity of the character. However, Moffatt starts progressing the character arc immediately.
Dennis is ready to admit that this was much more successful in the 2010s than in the 1980s. He seems curiously shy of drawing the obvious conclusion that it’s simply that Steven Moffatt (plus team) is a much better show-runner than John Nathan-Turner (plus Eric Saward). His argument is that the decision to darken the Sixth Doctor era in terms of aesthetics and tone was not a bad decision, just inadequately executed. I’m sorry, but that makes it a bad decision as far as I am concerned.
This is the latest post in a series I started in late 2019, anticipating the twentieth anniversary of my bookblogging at the end of October 2023. Every six-ish days, I’ve been revisiting a month from my recent past, noting work and family developments as well as the books I read in that month. I’ve found it a pleasantly cathartic process, especially in recent circumstances. If you want to look back at previous entries, they are all tagged under bookblog nostalgia.
The big trip for this month was a return to Northern Ireland for the first time in two years, to celebrate my mother’s 80th birthday with a family party, and a specially commissioned birdbath by Eleanor Wheeler.
It was a great break and we were very happy to reconnect with friends and relatives on both sides of the border.
I also kept up my ten-day posts about the pandemic.
I read 28 books that month; though some of them were very short.
Non-fiction 3 (YTD 27) The Secret of Kit Cavenaugh, by Anne Holland (has fictional elements) A Woman in Berlin Humankind, by Rutger Bregman
Non-genre 2 (YTD 19) Thirteen, by Steve Cavanagh The Wonder, by Emma Donoghue
SF 9 (YTD 83) Contact, by Carl Sagan Strange Bedfellows: An Anthology of Political Science Fiction, ed. Hayden Trenholm Two Truths and a Lie, by Sarah Pinsker Fish Tails, by Sheri S. Tepper The Place of the Lion, by Charles Williams A Hero Born, by Jin Yong Cryptozoic!, by Brian Aldiss The Primal Urge, by Brian Aldiss The Mists of Avalon, by Marion Zimmer Bradley
Doctor Who 3 (YTD 8, 11 inc comics) The Beast of Stalingrad, by Iain McLaughlin The HAVOC Files 2, ed. Shaun Russell Dalek, by Robert Shearman
Comics 10 (YTD 29) In de tuin, by Noëlle Smit Hr. Alting, by Bente Olesen Nyström Trocoscópio, by Bernardo P. Carvalho Meidän piti lähteä, by Sanna Pelliccioni Mijn straat: een wereld van verschil, by Ann De Bode Fridolin Franse frisiert, by Michael Roher Otthon, by Kinga Rofusz La Ciudad, by Roser Capdevila Sortie de nuit, by Laurie Agusti A Tale of Two Time Lords, by Jodie Houser et al
6,300 pages (YTD 46,400) 13/27 (YTD 78/171) by non-male writers (Holland, the woman in Berlin, Donoghue, Pinsker, Tepper, Bradley, Smit, Pelliccioni, De Boda, Rofusz, Capdevilar, Augusti, Houser et al) 1/27 (YTD 31/171) by PoC (Jin Yong)
Current The Revolution Trade, by Charles Stross The Second ‘If’ Reader, ed. Fredrik Pohl θ4
Last books finished American Gridlock, eds. James Thurber and Antoine Yoshinak Deep Wheel Orcadia, by Harry Josephine Giles Sil and the Devil Seeds of Arodor, by Philip Martin Vengeance on Varos, by Jonathan Dennis
Next books The Rings of Akhaten, by William Shaw Can You Solve My Problems, by Alex Bellos Twelve Caesars: Images of Power from the Ancient World to the Modern, by Mary Beard
We’re taking the long weekend in the metropolis to the north, and yesterday we did a walkling tour of six Amsterdam churches, following a trail laid out by Cate Desjardins in a 2019 blog post. This nicely took up an extended afternoon, from about 12 to about 5. The map on Cate’s blog post no longer works, so here’s mine (you go from south to north):
The first church on the list is De Krijtberg, a Jesuit church dedicated to St Francis Xavier, built in the 1880s to replace one of the many “hidden churches” in the city built when Catholics could not worship openly. Like a lot of buildings in Amsterdam, it is tall and narrow, and has adapted the nineteenth-century Catholic aesthetic accordingly. Its own website said it did not open until after lunch, but Cate’s blog said it opened at 12 and Cate was right.
Not for the first time, I was struck by one of the stained glass windows (probably by the studio of F. Nicolas in the early 20th century), in this case the Jesuits Doing Good in Africa, whether the Africans wanted them to or not.
Our second stop was at the Begijnhof, the former enclosed community for single women (usually Catholics, not usually nuns), which remains a residential space under the protection of St Ursula (who we would see again):
Unfortunately the ancient Begijnhof chapel itself was closed for renovations.
We went back this morning and sneaked into a service at the English Reformed Church. It has a lovely stained glass window commemorating the Pilgrim Fathers.
And the organist played “Simply the Best” at the end, as a tribute to Tina Turner, after the scheduled Buxtehude, which was a lovely touch.
But yesterday we were able to appreciate the serenity away from the bustle outside.
And there is Art.
Third up is the Nieuwe Kerk, one of the big Protestant churches of Amsterdam which is now an art gallery. Cate in her blog post feels this is somewhat skippable; we were fortunate because there is an impressive exhibition there at the moment, and that was well worth the admission price. The original fabric is also visible here and there, including the tomb of Admiral de Ruyter.
The current exhibition, World Press Photo 2023, is stunning and gut-wrenching. It starts with previous famous photos, such as fifteen-year-old Dorothy Counts trying to go to school in North Carolina, and Tank Man from Tian-an-Men Square.
Of this year’s photos, I was particularly moved by this fifteen-year-old mother, her baby’s sixteen-year-old father having been killed in the Philippines’ war on drugs.
And the picture of the year is a woman being evacuated from Mariupol hospital in Ukraine, having been wounded while in labour by a deliberate Russian attack on the building. She and the baby both died.
Thoughtfully we wandered up to the red light district and the Oude Kerk, which had the highest admission price of any of the churches and frankly the least to see. It too is an exhibition space but there was nothing much on. A detailed audio guide takes you through the church fabric, including St Ursula again, partially preserved from iconoclasm, in the ceiling.
I think with both the Oude and the Nieuwe Kerk, it pays to check out the exhibitions in advance.
We skipped ahead on Cate’s list to go to the Basilica of St Nicholas next, because both she and the website said that it closed relatively early – in fact it stayed open later than we had been told. Like De Krijtberg, this is a working Catholic church built in the 1880s, but with a bit more space. An American choir was getting ready to perform Evensong.
Here we were both really grabbed by the Stations of the Cross by Jan Dunselman, which combine a realist sensitivity with an almost pre-Raphaelite balance of lighting.
Dunselman specialised in Stations of the Cross, and Dutch Wikipedia lists nine other churches where he tackled them. If we lived closer to this part of the world, I would try and check them all out.
Last but not least, we doubled back to Our Lord in the Attic, a hidden church from the time when Catholics could not worship openly, which has been preserved and restored. It is not very accessible for visitors with mobility issues.
This has very good displays explaining how and why the church was built in this way. I could not help but think of Anne Frank and her family, continuing the Amsterdam tradition of hiding up the staircase, centuries later and a little farther west. At the end we see St Nicholas again, patron saint of the city and of pawnbrokers and much else, holding onto his balls.
Anyway, this was a great way to explore a part of Amsterdam’s history. A couple more details: we paid for the three museums, but not the Begijnhof or the two active churches. Also, Amsterdam is full of places to snack or eat.
In one of my insomniac browsings of Wikipedia, I came across the interesting factoid that the valley of the River Meuse in Belgium is perhaps the second oldest river valley in the world, after an occasionally flowing river in the Australian desert.
I began to wonder if this could possibly be true. The argument is that between Charleville-Mezieres and Namur, the river cuts through Paleozoic rocks which were raised up to the surface between 320 and 340 million years ago, in what is called the Variscan or Hercynian orogeny, the process which created the Pyrenees, the mountains of southwestern Ireland, Cornwall, Devon, much of Wales, Brittany, the Ardennes, the Massif Central, the Vosges, Corsica, Sardinia, the Eifel, the Hunsrück, the Taunus, the Black Forest and the Harz Mountains. The Appalachians were being formed at the same time.
But the source cited by Wikipedia, Environmental History of the Rhine-Meuse Delta by P.N. Nienhuis, doesn’t say this at all. It says only that the river “transects the Paleozoic rock of the Ardennes Massif”. The Paleozoic era is basically anything before 250 million years ago. But the fact that the river cuts through rock of a certain age shows only that it is younger than those rocks, not that it is the same age.
Now, there is a thing that needs to be explained. The river has eroded its way through the Ardennes, producing an impressive gorge, and also terraces higher up the valley showing where the water level once was. In particular, it winds through the Rocroi Inlier, a chunk of ancient rock which the Franco-Belgian border winds through, all that is left of one of the offshore islands of the ancient lost continent of Avalonia.
The Rocroi Inlier is not soft rock; it’s hardened and mostly igneous, though crushed and faulted. So on the face of it, it seems odd that the Meuse flows across it, rather than turning west and feeding the Oise to join the Seine. The traditional theory, mentioned without adequate citation in Wikipedia, was proposed by Charles-Louis-Joseph-Xavier de la Vallée Poussin in 1875: that the river flowed north before the Ardennes ever rose and continued to erode its traditional path even as the hills rose around it. There are plenty of cases like this worldwide, the best known being the New River of North Carolina, Virginia, and West Virginia, which flows through the Appalachians and is thought to pre-date them.
Not everyone agrees that the Meuse is so old. One other explanation that I’ve seen and tend to reject is the idea that this is a case of stream capture: that the northern lower Meuse gradually eroded back across the granite to capture the southern higher waters. Stream capture is very clearly the case further up the Meuse in France, where the Moselle captured its upper streams. You can still see the old Meuse valley in the landscape west of Toul. But that’s in a flatter and more forgiving landscape than the Ardennes. I don’t see the Meuse gradually eroding southwards back through the granite, eventually breaking though to France.
There’s another problem too. It looks like the area of the Meuse valley may have been underwater during the Hettangian age, roughly 200 million years ago. That would rather kill the notion that the river could be as much as 320 million years old.
In fact, the current consensus appears to be that it is much younger. In their 2000 paper “Sediment budget and tectonic evolution of the Meuse catchment in the Ardennes and the Roer Valley Rift System”, Van Balen and four co-authors state as if it were generally accepted that “The Meuse river system developed in its current position despite the uplift of the Ardennes since the Eocene [which ended 34 million years ago]. In the Ardennes, the present-day system was to a large extent established in the Pliocene [5 to 2.5 million years ago]; only minor changes occurred in the pattern of the drainage system during the Quaternary [since 2.5 million years ago]. During the Plio–Pleistocene [the last 5 million years], the rivers incised and a terrace sequence developed[.]”
I am not a geologist, and my French is not all that good, but Francis Meilliez in his 2018 paper Le Massif Ardenno-Rhénan, un massif ancien en cure de rajeunissement also has the Meuse happily flowing north, finding its way through the faults in the crushed granite of the Rocroi Inlier, until the Ardennes and Rocroi Inlier very slowly rose in the last few tens of millions of years, the river eroding its way down to its current level. This would explain why the Meuse river terraces, showing where it was previously, are not especially ancient.
I’d love to read some more about this, but I’m satisfied for now. The Meuse is not really so very ancient as all that – certainly not as ancient as the Rhine – but these are still processes that take periods of time which are impossible for us to comprehend. It makes you feel rather small, really.
The header picture I’m currently using was taken last July on the Lesse, a tributary of the Meuse right in the middle of the Ardennes.
And so she spent her days in her castle, dressed in wool trousers and jerseys, eating half a cold dinner in the dining room, walking the corridors, the echoes alone persuading her that the walls still existed, stalking the parapets and slumping up and down stairs, she repeated words from the shiny reviews of old tennis matches, singing a sad song to herself, until finally spring came – the heat in the air, the heady smell of blossoms, birdsong loud enough to wake you.
For fairly obvious reasons, I’m thinking a lot about the Arthur C. Clarke Award at the moment, and realised that I have not read the most recent three winners; time to put that right.
I thought The Old Drift was tremendous. It’s mostly about the interlinking lives of three families in Zambia, mostly in Lusaka but starting at the Victoria Falls, over the decades from the early twentieth century to the very near future, in a timeline that diverges slight from ours in terms of technology. I don’t think I’d ever read anything much about Zambia before, and this really conveyed the spirit of a young and also old country, with European and Asian inputs to an African culture. It’s quite a tech-oriented story as well, but the core is the vividly imagined relationships and environment of the characters, with different points of view sympathetically given. It stretched my mind in an unexpected way. Recommended. You can get it here.
Edited to add: I should have mentioned the other Clarke finalists. There was an unusual degree of overlap with the Hugos, with A Memory Called Empire, by Arkady Martine, The City in the Middle of the Night, by Charlie Jane Anders and The Light Brigade, by Kameron Hurley on both lists; I read all three but did not blog them, as I was Deputy Hugo Administrator that year. A Memory Called Empire won the Hugo and was also on the Nebula final ballot. The other two shortlisted novels were Cage of Souls, by Adrian Tchaikovsky, and The Last Astronaut, by David Wellington. None of the six was on the BSFA or Tiptree lists.
She had never been given orders to socialise by a superior before. But then, she’d never before been given many of the orders she now got in the Fourth. Mrs Roberts had taken the telegram to Hilda from Eileen. In it, Eileen had played the pure innocent. Two long separated friends meeting in the middle of a war, and then she would try and find where the missing Ministry money and resources were going. Because it certainly wasn’t leaving the factory as steel parts for Avro Lancaster and Spitfire crankshafts.
First of another sub-series of the Lethbridge-Stewart books, set during the second world war in Derbyshire, and centring on Edward Travers and Eileen Le Croissette (who was actually a real person). The other Doctor Who reference is that the invading robots are the Quarks. It’s decent enough but not really breaking new ground, and I’m wondering how long I will stick with this series. You can get it here.
We’ve been hugely enjoying the Netflix series, The Diplomat, over the last week or so. It’s about a woman who is appointed as the American ambassador to London in the midst of a crisis, little realising that this may be a step towards something much bigger, and also attempting (or not) to salvage her marriage. It looks gorgeous, as this trailer will demonstrate:
Of course, it’s all a bit different from the way these things work in real life – no US Ambassador would get sent to London without a confirmation hearing by the Senate. (Yes, technically it could be done by a recess appointment, but this is not mentioned in the show.) The level of access enjoyed by the ambassador to the UK Foreign Office, and vice versa, is a tad unrealistic; the fact that we see officials swirling around the protagonist, and not the equivalent flocks around her British counterparts, makes the British look distinctly and unrealistically unbureaucratic. POLITICO has mercilessly fact-checked the show from the American point of view, and the UK foreign secretary has done the same with a little more mercy:
But let’s be honest, we don’t watch Macbeth to learn about eleventh-century Scottish history. The script was fun, the international intrigue a little crazy but also engaging, and the actors good to look at. I remember Rufus Sewell smouldering in Cold Comfort Farm three decades ago. He does a good smoulder. And it’s nice to see T’Nia Miller again from Doctor Who, Years and Years and Foundation, though I’d have liked to see a bit more of Pearl Mackie.
So yes, recommended if you don’t mind a show that is definitely more drama than documentary.
Second paragraph of third story (“Coming-of-Age Day”, by A.K. Jorgensson):
But you got some funny answers.
A 1978 anthology from Pan, including stories by Robert Silverberg, Thomas M. Disch, A.K. Jorgensson, Anne McCaffrey, Brian Aldiss, Hilary Bailey, John Sladek and Michael Moorcock. I’m afraid that despite the stellar array of authors and the potentially interesting subject matter, this is not a great collection; several of the stories depend on a rather rapey concept of consent, the Aldiss contribution is frankly incomprehensible (I see that this is its only publication apart from its original appearance in F&SF) and the Moorcock is an excerpt from Dancers at the End of Time that I already have in two different editions. Hilary Bailey’s “Sisters” is the best of these, and it’s more about bio weapons than sex. You can get it here.
This was the shortest unread book that I acquired in 2016 on my shelves. Next on that pile is The Shape of Irish History, by A.T.Q. Stewart.
This is the latest post in a series I started in late 2019, anticipating the twentieth anniversary of my bookblogging at the end of October 2023. Every six-ish days, I’ve been revisiting a month from my recent past, noting work and family developments as well as the books I read in that month. I’ve found it a pleasantly cathartic process, especially in recent circumstances. If you want to look back at previous entries, they are all tagged under bookblog nostalgia.
With things opening up again, I had two significant excursions in July 2021. The first was to nearby Park Abbey just south of Leuven, where for the first time I saw the astonishing work of Jean Christiaan Hansche in the ceilings of the library and the refectory. This became a bit of an obsession for me over the next few months.
Non-fiction 2 (YTD 24) Too Innocent Abroad: Letters Home from Europe 1949, by Joan Hibbard Fleming The Life and Adventures of Mrs. Christian Davies, Commonly Called Mother Ross on Campaign with the Duke of Marlborough (incorrectly attributed to Daniel Defoe)
Non-genre 4 (YTD 17) Middlemarch, by George Eliot Hitting a Straight Lick with a Crooked Stick, by Zora Neale Hurston Martin Lukes: Who Moved My Blackberry, by Lucy Kellaway The History of Mr Polly, by H.G. Wells
Comics 1 (YTD 19) Le dernier Atlas, tome 2, by Fabien Vehlmann, Gwen De Bonneval and Fred Blanchard
7,400 pages (YTD 40,100) 13/21 (YTD 65/144) by non-male writers (Hibbard Fleming, Davies/Ross, Eliot, Hurston, Kellaway, Ifueko, Roanhorse, Muir, de Bodard, Novik, Chakraborty, Kuang, Bartlett) 6/21 (YTD 30/144) by PoC (Hurston, Ifueko, Roanhorse, de Bodard, Chakraborty, Kuang)
Unusually I’m going to call out two excellent rereads -normally in these posts I concentrate on books read for the first time. But Middlemarch, which you can get here, is one of the best books I have ever read, and The Separation, which you can get here, is one of Christopher Priest’s best books.
Current American Gridlock, eds. James Thurber and Antoine Yoshinaka The Revolution Trade, by Charles Stross
Last books finished Home Fires Burn, by Gareth Madgwick The Old Drift, by Namwali Serpell Doctor Who – Vengeance on Varos, by Philip Martin The Animals in That Country, by Laura Jean McKay
Next books Vengeance on Varos, by Jonathan Dennis The Second ‘If’ Reader, ed. Fredrik Pohl Twelve Caesars: Images of Power from the Ancient World to the Modern, by Mary Beard
