730 days of plague

So, here we are, two weeks later to the day since the first lockdown in Belgium. It’s St Patrick’s Day, and I cannot forget that the cancellation of the Irish embassy party in 2020, which would have been the farewell for the retiring Permanent Representative, was one of the first things to really hit. But here we are: the Northern Ireland representative office held an Ulster Fry get-together this morning, and the Irish College in Leuven, which started the tradition of St Patrick’s Day as a diaspora festival, is having an event tomorrow evening. We’ve waited a long time for this.

It’s been fun, and good discipline, updating these posts every ten days. I may have to revive them at some stage; infection numbers are still surging, and who knows what variants lie around the corner. But for now this is a good point to stop.

84k, by Claire North

Second paragraph of third chapter:

The man lies on the couch, and dreams and memories blur in a fitful crimson smear of paint.

I’m a big fan of Claire North’s work anyway, but this is a bit different – a well-realised near-future dystopian England, where crime and social transgression have been transformed into accounting units (along with the privatisation of most public services) and the underclass is oppressed by cosy collusion between big business and government. Our protagonist, a minor cog in the bureaucracy of punitive taxation, is moved by a shadow from his own past to begin fighting back against the system. A couple of interlocking plot lines, so that you can look at the story from slightly different angles. Grim but convincing. You can get it here.

This was my top unread book acquired in 2018, and my top unread book by a woman. Next on both of those piles is Lost in Translation, by Ella Frances Sanders (which I’ve already read and will review next).

Duran Duran: The First Four Years of the Fab Five by Neil Gaiman

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Their debut gig was at Birmingham’s Barbarellas, supporting a local band called Fashion. People who saw them back then say they were awful. Nick Rhodes has said ‘The original Duran Duran wasn’t so much a group as a series of get-togethers… an evening of pretence with Duran Duran just about sums it up: John has been equally dismissive of the early years. ‘We were really on a bit of an art school trip at the time: he told one journalist. And later, ‘We tried all sorts of line-ups in the early days. In fact we were something of a joke in Birmingham.’

Neil Gaiman’s first ever book, and the last of the Humble Bundle of Gaiman rarities that I acquired a few years ago. I confess that I was never particularly into Duran Duran; they pleasingly drew their name from the film version of classic French comic Barbarella, and recently little U has decided that she likes the video for Save A Prayer.

The kindest thing that can be said about this book is that at least its writer went on to greater things. 1984 was the peak of Duran Duran’s original burst of fame; the five central musicians were all still in their mid twenties, dealing with the sudden acquisition of fame and riches about as well as any self-centred young men do (which is to say not very well). Gaiman can’t quite disguise the fact that the people he writes about are not very nice, or in the end very interesting. Nick Rhodes’ androgynous presentation does leap out as unusual for the time; but Boy George was already taking it further. Not really recommended, and not all that easy to get either.

This was the shortest unread book on my shelves of those that I had acquired in 2015. Next on that pile is The Limbless Landlord, by Brian Igoe.

Erhard Busek, 1941-2022

Very sorry to learn of the death yesterday of Erhard Busek, a few days before his 81st birthday. When I first came to Brussels in 1998 looking for work, Peter Ludlow and Michael Emerson put me in front of him as a sort of interview rite of passage, to see if I could hold my own in debate with a former Vice-Chancellor of Austria. He was charming, modest, and tolerant of the young, and I passed the test. I did not know then of the brave role he had played within his own party a decade earlier, suggesting that maybe Kurt Waldheim was not such a good candidate to have as president. I did know that as Vice-Chancellor in the mid-90s, he had led his party and co-led his country into the EU.

We saw quite a lot of each other over the next decade, as he carried out his various roles in keeping the EU engaged with the Balkans. I was impressed that, as EU Special Representative in charge of the Stability Pact for Southeastern Europe, he did not hold back from challenging his own paymasters for their lack of ambition towards the future EU membership of the Western Balkan countries.

But I also remember sharing a flight with him from Brussels to Vienna for a conference where we were both speaking. I remarked that I was surprised that he was not up in business class rather than slumming it in economy with the rest of us. He retorted something along the lines of ”Quatsch! I have my papers, my pyjamas and a book to read; why would I need to be in business class for an hour or two?”

I last saw him at the GlobSec conference in Bratislava in 2019. He was recovering from a stroke, but still radiating goodwill and constructive engagement, venerated by all of us there who knew his record. Someone who left his country and his continent in better shape than he found it.

After Atlas, by Emma Newman

Second paragraph of third chapter of After Atlas, by Emma Newman:

I’ll watch your back if you’ll watch mine.

This is the second in the four-volume Planetfall series by Emma Newman, which I have read completely out of order. (Thirdfourthfirst.) I’m afraid this lost me pretty early on when the protagonist, a police detective, was compelled by his bosses to investigate the murder of a former close friend. Sure, he is indentured through an ‘orrible system of cyber-slavery, but really, assigning someone like that is a crazy thing for a police force of any size to do. I read patiently through for the payoff, but it didn’t come. You can get it here.

This was my top unread book acquired in 2020. Next on that list is Killdozer!, by Theodore Sturgeon.

Border poll – the precedents

There is much discussion in Northern Ireland – and in the Republic – on the conditions for a referendum on whether or not Northern Ireland should stay in the UK, or become part of a united Ireland. I’ve been fairly clear in my own mind about this for a number of years. I wrote in 2014 that an Assembly election in which Nationalist parties exceed Unionist parties in either votes or seats, or two non-Assembly elections in a row where that happens, would surely be sufficient grounds for the Secretary of State to call a Border Poll.

I’m also fairly clear – and wrote about this in the Irish Times in 2019 – that for the pro-United Ireland side to win such a referendum requires three things to happen: 1) Brexit working out badly; 2) Unionists continuing to talk only to their own core voters and not to the centre ground; 3) Nationalists coming up with a better offer, especially on health services. The first two of these conditions are close to being fulfilled at present; the third, however, is also necessary and we are not there yet.

But there has been much less examination of where such votes have happened previously. Self-determination referendums and plebiscites are not exactly rare in world history. But it’s pretty unusual for the options to be restricted to a choice of which already existing state you want to be part of. Much more often, voters are choosing between independence, on the one hand, and rule by someone else, on the other. I was myself involved in the two most recent independence referendums to have succeeded, in Montenegro in 2006 and in South Sudan in 2011.

Referendums have their advantages and their flaws, and I’m not really going to go into the merits here, just present the historical detail. I’ll note that (of course) they are a pretty blunt instrument, offering little nuance or reassurance for minorities, and that not every one of these historical votes could really be described as having taken place under free and fair circumstances.

Historically I find the following internationally recognised precedents for a popular vote where the electorate were asked about future sovereignty, and independence was not one of the options. There are (arguably) twenty-one of them. In eight cases, voters chose to remain in the country they were currently ruled by. In ten cases, voters chose a change of sovereignty, though in three of those nine cases the will of the voters was not in fact implemented and they stayed where they were. And in the remaining three cases, the territory was split between the two states who wanted to rule it.

1527: Burgundy. The scholar Mats Qvortrup cites this as a very early example of a plebiscite. Under the 1526 Treaty of Madrid, Burgundy was to have been ceded by France to Spain; but King Francis I of France organised a vote of male property owners in Burgundy, who rejected the Treaty, and Burgundy remained French.

1860: Nice and Savoy. Between 1849 and 1870 there were a dozen referendums on self-determination in Italy, as states voted (usually by huge and dubious margins) to join with the new kingdom, effectively merging with Piedmont in the process known as the Risorgimento. Most of those votes do not count for present purposes, as the choice was between continued independence and Italian rule. However, there is one exception: the price for French support of the Risorgimento, under the Treaty of Turin, was the annexation of the town of Nice and province of Savoy, which had until then been under Piedmontese rule. Two referendums in 1860 ratified the transfer.

1868 and 1916, Danish West Indies; 1877, Saint-Barthelemy. A couple of interesting cases in the Caribbean, where on three occasions, islanders voted on which external power they wanted to be ruled by – the Danish West Indies choosing whether to be ruled by Denmark or the United States, and Saint-Barthelemy choosing whether to shift from Swedish to French rule. In all three cases, the referendum was in favour of change, but the US Senate rejected the annexation of the Danish West Indies in 1870, changing its mind almost half a century later; they are now the U.S. Virgin Islands.

1919-22, post-War Europe. The end of the first world war brought a number of new states into being, none of which chose to ratify their independence by referendum. However, there were a number of cases of border adjustments being made by holding a vote in the disputed territories. Only a minority of these votes resulted in a transfer of sovereignty. Two of them were frustrated, both in 1919, when the Vorarlberg province of Austria voted to join Switzerland, and the Åland Islands off the coast of Finland voted to join Sweden, but in both cases, the result was not internationally recognised and they were compelled to remain under Austrian and Finnish rule respectively.

In 1920, there were five such referendums, three of which resulted in votes to stick with the country they had previously been ruled by. So, in February 1920, the northern part of the German province of Schleswig voted to become part of Denmark – the only successful transfer of sovereignty from a single referendum. But a month later, in March 1920, central Schleswig voted to remain in Germany, and the planned vote for southern Schleswig was cancelled. Later that year, the formerly German towns of Eupen and Malmedy voted to join Belgium in a very dodgy process where there was no secret ballot; East Prussia voted to stay in Germany rather than join Poland; the southern zone of Carinthia voted to stay with Austria rather than join the new state of Yugoslavia. In 1921, the district of Sopron voted to stay in Hungary rather than join Austria.

The biggest and messiest of these referendums was the last, held in Upper Silesia in March 1921, in a situation of violence and vote-rigging from both sides. The vote was 60% for Germany and 40% for Poland; the territory in the end was divided, with both sides getting about half of the population, Germany getting more of the land and Poland more of the heavy industry. (It should be added that intimidation and violence were standard features of these referendums.)

1935, Saarland. In a hangover from the First World War, the Saar Basin Territory (now the Saarland), which had been under international rule through the League of Nations, was given a choice between the status quo, joining Germany, or joining France. The German option won more than 90% of the vote, with the status quo a very distant second. So few voters chose France that I hesitate to include it on this list. It’s a rare case of a referendum with more than two options, not that it made much difference in the end.

1947, India/Pakistan. I find only five more internationally recognised referendums in the last hundred years where voters chose between different countries, without independence being on the table. Two of them were parts of the Indian independence process in 1947, with both the North West Frontier Province and the District of Sylhet voting to join Pakistan rather than India. Sylhet was divided, with a small part of it staying in India and the rest now in Bangladesh.

1961, British Cameroons. There have been a number of referenda and plebiscites in Africa, but in almost every case independence has been one of the options on the ballot (including, as mentioned, Southern Sudan, now South Sudan, in 2011). The only exception that I have found was the former territory of the British Cameroons in 1961, in which the population were given the choice between joining the former French colony of Cameroon to the east, or Nigeria to the west. In 1959 they had already voted on whether or not to join Nigeria, and chose not, or at least not yet. In 1961, the Muslim north voted to join Nigeria, and the Christian south to join Cameroon, and that was what in the end happened.

1967 (and 2002), Gibraltar. The 1967 referendum on Gibraltar’s sovereignty clearly satisfies my criteria for inclusion on this list. It was the result of a talks process between Spain and the United Kingdom, and voters were given a choice between integration with Spain or continued British rule. They chose British rule by an overwhelming majority. In 2002 the government of Gibraltar held another referendum, but I don’t think this counts for my purposes: it was a declarative (and again overwhelming) rejection of unpublished proposals for shared sovereignty between the UK and Spain, without any positive option being on the ballot.

1973, Northern Ireland. It is almost fifty years since voters anywhere in the world were given the choice of which country to be part of, without independence being one of the options, and the last such vote was the March 1973 Border Poll in Northern Ireland. On a 59% turnout, 99% of voters supported Northern Ireland remaining part of the United Kingdom, and only 1% voted for Irish unification. I find it interesting that 50-60,000 votes for the Union were cast by people who did not then vote for pro-Union parties in the local council and Assembly elections a few months later.

Next time, the result will certainly be closer.

Saturday reading

Current
A Very Private Haunting, by Sharon Bidwell
Nine Lives, by Aimen Dean
Iron Widow, by Xiran Jay Zhao

Last books finished
The Green Man’s Challenge, by Juliet McKenna
The Unofficial Doctor Who Annual 1972, ed. Mark Worgan
Skyward Inn, by Aliya Whiteley
The Twinkling of an Eye, by Brian Aldiss
The Anthropocene Unconscious: Climate Catastrophe in Contemporary Culture, by Mark Bould
Light Chaser, by Peter F Hamilton and Gareth L Powell
Cyberpunk Culture and Psychology: Seeing Through the Mirrorshades, by Anna McFarlane
The Space Machine, by Christopher Priest

Next books
Air, by Geoff Ryman
Hive Monkey, by Gareth L. Powell

July 2015 books

This is the latest post in a series I started in late 2019, anticipating the twentieth anniversary of my bookblogging which will fall in 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.

A busy travel month, as I visited London, Barcelona and, for the only time in my life so far, Nigeria for work purposes, and also went to my cousin’s housewarming/wedding party in Luxembourg.

En route to the latter, we detoured to Trier in Germany, where the Emperor Constantine’s throne room, built in the early 300’s, is now the main Protestant church in the city and was hosting a sculpture exhibition.

As we drove home, the EU summit was sorting out Greece’s finances.

Puppy madness was still dominating my reading time, so I read only 18 books that month.

Non-fiction: 4 (YTD 27)
Splintered Light: Tolkien’s World, by Verlyn Flieger
The Prisoner, by Dave Rogers
Gulp, by Mary Roach
The King’s Speech, by Mark Logue and Peter Conradi

Splintered Light The Prisoner Gulp The Kings Speech

Fiction (non-sf): 4 (YTD 22)
The Luminaries, by Eleanor Catton
The True Deceiver, by Tove Jansson
Ulysses, by James Joyce
The Sorrows of an American, by Siri Hust

The Luminaries The True Deceiver Ulysses Sorrows of an American

SF (non-Who): 3 (YTD 77)
City at the End of Time, by Greg Bear (did not finish, 100 pages only)
A Scanner Darkly, by Philip K. Dick
Kushiel’s Mercy, by Jacqueline Carey

City at the End of Time A Scanner Darkly Kushiels Mercy

Doctor Who, etc: 6 (YTD 28)
Killing Ground, by Steve Lyons
Halflife, by Mark Michalowski
Ghost Devices, by Simon Bucher-Jones
Doctor Who and the Vortex Crystal by William H. Keith, Jr.
Doctor Who and the Rebel’s Gamble by William H. Keith, Jr.
Doctor Who – The Drosten’s Curse, by A.L. Kennedy

Killing Ground Halflife Ghost Devices Vortex Crystal Rebels Gamble Drostens Curse

Comics : 1 (YTD 11)
Sally Heathcote, Suffragette, by Mary M. Talbot, Kate Charlesworth and Bryan Talbot

Sally Heathcote

~6,300 pages (YTD 43,700)
9/18 by women (YTD 48/165) – Flieger, Roach, Catton, Jansen, Hustvedt, Kennedy, Talbot/Charlesworth
0/18 by PoC (YTD 11/147)

The best new read of these was Sally Heathcote, Suffragette, which you can get here, though I also enjoyed returning to Ulysses, which you can get here, and A Scanner Darkly, which you can get here.

I thoroughly bounced off The Sorrows of an American, but you can get it here.

A new home

After almost 19 years of blogging on Livejournal, and almost 15,000 entries, the time has come to move to a dedicated WordPress site, managed by the amazing Damien at Elucidate. I have archived all of my old entries to the new site (or rather, Damien has); and I hope to import all comments and tags as well. I don’t plan to delete my Livejournal, and I will crosspost to it once I work out how, but I have a strong suspicion that it won’t stay up for much longer.

This is still a work in progress, and I hope to improve the look and feel of the blog over the next weeks and months as I get to grips with the power of WordPress. Already I feel it’s something I probably could and should have done years ago. Look forward to hearing from you all.

The Postmistress, by Sarah Blake

Second paragraph of third chapter of The Postmistress:

There was France and Germany. Austria. England. Poland. Letters printed in straight lines in the comforting typeface of school, the world ordered as neatly as the men now were. Since the draft had begun in October, each man’s number pulled by hand from the War Department’s glass fishbowl and recorded, the roads and rails were full of American boys being sent all over the country, leaning over books and maps in their olive drab, sprawled in the too tight seats moving from Ohio to Omaha. Tennessee. Georgia. The Carolinas. From town the two Snow brothers would go first, then a Wilcox, a Duarte, and a Boggs. Johnny Cripps and Dr. Fitch had numbers so high, it was as good as if they hadn’t been called. They’d never be needed now.

A novel about three American women during the second world war, two of whom are rather boring and live in Massachusetts and one of whom is more interesting and does some gripping journalism from Europe. One of the two in America is a postmistress who doesn’t deliver a letter. It didn’t really engage me. You can get it here.

This was my top unread book by a woman, my top unread book acquired last year and my top unread non-genre book. Next on the first list was 84k, by Claire North, which I have since read. Next on the other two is Intimacy, by Jean-Paul Sartre.

Nebula ballot, Goodreads / LibraryThing stats

The Nebula Awards final ballot is out, so here are the ratings of the nominated books on Goodreads and LibraryThing. The top number in each column is in bold.

Best Novel

GoodreadsLibraryThing
reviewersav ratingownersav rating
A Desolation Called Peace, Arkady Martine128214.384894.18
A Master of Djinn, P. Djèlí Clark89994.154473.96
The Unbroken, C.L. Clark40333.882083.64
Machinehood, S.B. Divya14473.691113.83
Plague Birds, Jason Sanford803.8144.38

One of these is not like the others.

Best Novella

GoodreadsLibraryThing
reviewersav ratingownersav rating
A Psalm for the Wild-Built, Becky Chambers203474.295404.25
Fireheart Tiger, Aliette de Bodard31353.511783.84
Flowers for the Sea, Zin E. Rocklyn7043.57473.79
Sun-Daughters, Sea-Daughters, Aimee Ogden3913.47343.85
And What Can We Offer You Tonight, Premee Mohamed1243.93144.17
The Necessity of Stars, E. Catherine Tobler793.91123.83
“The Giants of the Violet Sea”, Eugenia Triantafyllou

The last of these was not published as a standalone and so is not comparable. (Martha Wells declined nomination for Fugitive Telemetry.)

Andre Norton Award for Middle Grade and Young Adult Fiction

GoodreadsLibraryThing
reviewersav ratingownersav rating
Iron Widow, Xiran Jay Zhao238914.264134.23
Redemptor, Jordan Ifueko49824.321163.95
Victories Greater Than Death, Charlie Jane Anders19213.552013.63
Root Magic, Eden Royce16714.24764.38
A Snake Falls to Earth, Darcie Little Badger12144.14863.42
Thornwood, Leah Cypess2103.82212.5

Again, a bit of variation here.

Scherven, by Erik de Graaf

Second frame of third section of Scherven:

Chris: “It’s about time you had a wee chat with her.”

I picked this up on spec last year from one of the local comics shops. It’s a story of young Dutch people in the occupied Netherlands during the second world war; after it’s all over, the protagonist, Victor, meets up with his ex-girlfriend, Esther, and reminisces in a series of nested flashbacks about the good times, the bad times and the terrifying times with their friend Chris, who got killed by the Germans (this is not a spoiler, the first page shows his gravestone in detail). The plot is yer typical young-folk-under-occupation tale; the art consciously refers to Dutch propaganda posters of the period, and as is often the case with graphic stories sometimes catches feelings and events that mere prose cannot. It’s backed up by photographic and documentary evidence about what happened to the real people on whom the story is based, which I guess makes it more immediate, though personally I’m generally happy to accept that fiction can have truth without being tightly linked to actual historical events.

The title translates as “Splinters”, and a second and final part of the series has now been published with the title “Littekens” / “Scars”. To be honest I made yet another of my mistakes in buying it – I thought it was by a Flemish writer, and it wasn’t until I got to the bits about Queen Wilhelmina that I made sense of the various hints that it was not set in Belgium after all. Still, it was engaging enough that I will probably get the second half.

You can get it here in Dutch and here in French; not yet in English apparently.

This was my top unread graphic novel in a language other than English. Next on that pile is Junker: een Pruisische blues, by Simon Spruyt.

2021 BSFA Awards: Best Art

A very interesting selection this year for the best Art category in the BSFA Awards, with the shortlisted artworks all being single static images – this has not always been the case; last year’s list included digitised 3D images of several murals, there was an outdoor art piece three years ago, and of course Tessa Farmer’s Wasp Factory sculpture rightly won the award for 2014 (at the 2015 Eastercon).

Glasgow Green Woman
One of the five nominees is "Glasgow Green Woman", a promotional piece for the 2024 Glasgow Worldcon bid by Sunderland-based Iain Clark. A similarly purposed piece won last year's BSFA Award, and Clark was a finalist for the Best Fan Artist Hugo in both of the last two years.
I tend to think of the Green Man legend as more of an English thing, but there are over 100 carvings of Green Men in the mysterious Rosslyn Chapel near Edinburgh, scene of the denouement of The Da Vinci Code. Clark has depicted the feminine aspect of the Green Man, sampling the scent of a Scottish thistle (which has a sexy wiggle to its stem). I found this a very cheering piece as the spring comes in.
Silhouette of a woman falling
The other four are all covers of books by authors with strong links to Africa. Two of them are collections of stories by Eugen Bacon, born in Tanzania and now based in Australia. The first is this stark silhouette by Kara Walker, possibly the most famous artist on the shortlist this year, with the design credited to Peter Lo (who appears to be different from the Scottish artist of the same name) of Transit Lounge, the publisher of Danged Black Thing. It's clearly very evocative of the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests
The second is for Saving Shadows, published by Newcon Press in the UK, image by Italian artist Elena Betti, design credited to Newcon owner Ian Whates (who I replaced as an Arthur C. Clarke Award judge in 2015, and he in turn replaced me the following year). It's an interesting combination of fluids and reflections.
Perhaps the most traditional of the nominees is the cover of Son of the Storm by Nigerian writer Suyi Davies Okungbowa (now in Canada). The art is by Dan Dos Santos, a six-time Hugo finalist and three-time Chesley winner, with design by Lauren Panepinto of the publisher Orbit Books, both Americans. It’s nicely done, with the protagonist staring at us vividly.
Finally, Okungbowa and Bacon are both contributors to this anthology of African speculative fiction, edited by Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki. The cover is by Filipina artist Maria Spada (who presumably designed it as well, as unlike the other three book covers, no separate designer is credited and she describes herself as a professional designer). I love the resonance between the traditional African mask and the act of uncovering to find that you really did not know what was behind it.

These are all lovely works, and it’s difficult to choose between them. At first I was a bit underwhelmed by Kara Walker’s silhouette for Danged Black Thing, but as I’ve been writing this I have found my eye drawn to it again and again, so in the end I think I will give it my first preference vote, followed by Maria Spada, Iain Clark, Dan Dos Santos and Elena Betti, probably in that order. But I may change my mind again in the next seven weeks.

720 days of plague

This will probably be the second last of my ten-day bulletins on COVID. Today, almost all restrictions were lifted in Belgium. Masks are compulsory only on public transport and in hospitals. The passenger locator forms for entering the country and the COVID-Safe pass for entering restaurants have been scrapped. We’re in a very different world.

My tweets

The Cornett Connection

During my trip to America last month, I linked up with several descendants of my grandmother’s paternal grandparents, William and Sarah Hibbard. Of course, there is another half to her family. Her mother, born Rebecca Wickersham, was one of eleven children by three marriages of Samuel Morris Wickersham (1819-1894); one of her brothers was killed in the Johnstown Flood, and another became Attorney-General of the United States under President Taft.

The Wickershams were descended from one of the early Quaker immigrants to Pennsylvania, Thomas Wickersham, who came from Bolney, 20 km north of Brighton in Sussex, and was one of the first white settlers in Chester County (west of Philadelphia, bordering both Maryland and Delaware) around 1700. He is known to have had fifteen children by two wives, and therefore has a lot of descendants. I have identified 88 people on Ancestry.com who seem to share Wickersham ancestry with me. All 88 of us have a particular chunk of shared DNA, and there are about a dozen whose ancestry I can trace back to Thomas Wickersham (from both marriages).

There are a couple more among the 88 who have Pennsylvania ancestry, but who I haven’t managed to link with Thomas Wickersham directly, and this could be for one of several reasons: 1) I simply may not have tried hard enough to find a link to the Wickershams which is in fact lurking there in the records; or 2) perhaps there is what genealogists describe as an NPE, a non-paternity event, where a child was born to a descendant of Thomas Wickersham but not recorded as such (one does also get non-maternity events, such as the Douglas Cause, but obviously these are much rarer); or 3) alternatively I could be completely wrong about the Wickersham links, although I have more evidence pointing in that direction than not.

It’s fascinating that there is enough DNA in my own system surviving from Thomas Wickersham, my 6x-great-grandfather, to link with 88 other people alive today. The strength of the DNA links with the 88 Ancestry users is at least 0.1% in each case. By the law of averages, I should have 2-8 of Thomas’s genes, which is 0.39%; and any other relatives descended from him at the same distance as me through one of his other children should share 2-15 of our DNA if we have the same 6x great-grandmother, 2-16 if we are descended from different wives, 0.003% and 0.005% respectively.

But the law of averages is wrong. I have 50% of my mother’s DNA and 50% of my father’s; but I won’t have exactly 25% from any of my grandparents, or 12.5% from any of my great-grandparents – different amounts will make it down the generations. I am getting the impression also that some DNA is more “sticky”, more likely to be inherited – which of course is what you would expect from natural selection anyway. So something in Thomas Wickersham’s DNA has been powerful enough to survive in extra strength in a lot of his living descendants, eight or nine or ten generations on. (Of course, a lot of them will also have lost that from their family trees.)

Anyway, the really interesting bit is that there are about another dozen of the 88 Ancestry users with Wickersham DNA for whom I have been unable to find a Wickersham or even a Pennsylvania link, but who all appear to be descended from the Cornett family of Grayson County, in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, way down in the southwest of the state and bordering both North Carolina and Tennessee. The origins of the Cornett family are somewhat murky. The first recorded family member, John Cornett, pops up near Richmond, VA, where he bought land in 1733; he was then one of the early white settlers of Grayson, which is 400 km away.

John Cornett’s origins are shrouded in mystery. There are completely undocumented assertions that “Cornett” derives from King Canute, or that his father was an earl; estimates of his birthdate vary from 1696 to 1712; he might have been one of four, or six, or seven brothers who all emigrated from England at the same time, or different times; there is a story that he worked as an indentured servant in Philadelphia and ran away to Virginia (Philadelphia is also 400 km from Richmond, in exactly the opposite direction). Tellingly, his mother Elizabeth’s maiden name is also recorded as “Cornett” or “Cornute”; she was supposedly born in Southampton in 1676, and possibly died there in 1720, but again the details are murky (and probably were supplied by John Cornett in his old age).

With no more evidence than the DNA and my best guess at interpreting the myths, I reckon that John Cornett was born out of wedlock in Philadelphia in the first decade of the 1700s, and that his biological father was Thomas Wickersham. Wickersham moved to Pennsylvania from England in 1700, with his newly married second wife, Alice Hogge, and four children from his first marriage to Anne Grover (who had died in 1697). Alice seems to have spent most of the next few years having babies: she had a girl 1701, twins in 1703, a boy in 1705, another boy in 1706 and twins again in 1708 (and another four in the years between then and 1723; I’m descended from the second youngest, Isaac, born in 1721). Thomas Wickersham was in his early 30s in 1700; he would not have been the first or last man to seek amusement outside a home dominated by young children, in the big city up the road. It’s also interesting that John Cornett pops up in Virginia soon after Thomas’s death in 1730; where did he get his stake to buy property near Richmond? (Did someone pay him to leave Philadelphia?)

There are other possibilities, of course. John Cornett’s mother is recorded as having been born and died in Southampton, England. But I do not trust those records (though I suppose that John could have been born there in the 1690s, before Thomas emigrated, and then in turn emigrated himself as a young man). The Cornett records are murky enough that the connection could be be at a later date, but I have difficult placing any of John’s descendants in the same place as any of the Wickershams. Theoretically I could have it the wrong way round, and the Cornetts could secretly be the ancestors of the Wickershams – but I have found enough connections to Thomas Wickersham, and to John Cornett a generation later, that this seems unlikely.

So there we are. There is a big community of Cornett researchers, and many of them have confessed their frustration at the brick wall they run into in the early 18th century. I don’t think I’ve knocked down the wall, but I may have helped loosen one of the bricks.

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Saturday reading

Current
The Twinkling of an Eye, by Brian Aldiss
The Space Machine, by Christopher Priest
The Green Man’s Challenge, by Juliet McKenna
The Unofficial Doctor Who Annual 1972, ed. Mark Worgan

Last books finished
Lost in Translation, by Ella Frances Sanders

Next books
Nine Lives, by Aimen Dean
Air, by Geoff Ryman

The Departed

The Departed won the Oscar for Best Picture of 2006, and three others: Best Director (Martin Scorsese), Best Film Editing (Thelma Schoonmaker), and Best Adapted Screenplay Writing (William Monahan). The other Best Picture nominees were The Queen, which I have seen, and Babel, Letters from Iwo Jima and Little Miss Sunshine, which I haven’t. The Hugo and Nebula that year both went to Pan’s Labyrinth.

The Departed ranks 2nd and 4th on the IMDB lists of 2006 films, with The Prestige ahead of it in both cases (I really must try and see that). Others from that year that I have seen: Casino RoyaleHappy FeetThe Last King of ScotlandThe Queen, as mentioned;  Charlotte’s Web; the curiously genderflipped Barnyard; and Starter for 10, which is probably my favourite. Here’s a trailer.

A fair number of big names here, starting with Leonardo Di Caprio, who we last saw in Titanic (1997) as Jack; here again he is the top billed male actor, double agent Billy.

After a long interval, we get Jack Nicholson again, here crime lord Costello, three decades earlier the randy astronaut in Terms of Endearment (1983) and the hero McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest .

Martin Sheen is of course forever President Bartlett for me. But here he is police captain Queenan, a quarter century after his role as a reporter in Gandhi (1982).

There are a couple of others – David O’Hara was in Braveheart, Mark Rolston was in Aliens, I’m sure there are more – but I don’t have the energy to track them all down now.

This I think the first Oscar-winner to be set in Massachusetts, or even in New England. (The most popular location for Oscar-winning films is New York, though we haven’t had one there since Kramer vs Kramer). It’s a crime story (we’ve had more of those), in which the a police agent played by Leonardo di Caprio is planted by Sheen’s character inside the criminal organisation led by Nicholson’s character, while another character played by Matt Damon does the same in reverse, as Nicholson’s character’s mole within the police.

I admired this film without really liking it all that much. As usual, starting with the points against: it’s two and a half hours long, and I really have better things to do with my weekends. It’s very much a white men’s film – in the credits, the first woman credited is in seventh place (Vera Farmyga, whose character’s purpose is to get romantically engaged with both the leads); and the first non-white actor is in eighth place, Anthony Anderson, leading the alphabet of second-stringers.

Lots of people get killed. None of the characters is especially likeable. The Boston Catholic community is nicely depicted as a backdrop, though you would get the idea that all Irish-descended Bostonians are either cops or criminals (or both).

The central theme of identity, involving two double agents operating in opposite directions, is fascinating and well executed. John Le Carre developed a whole subgenre about spies with conflicted loyalties, well established by the time Scorsese transplanted it to Boston cops.

Eveyone who has seen the Hong Kong film this was based on, Infernal Affairs, tells me that the original is better. Unfortunately I have not been able to track it down, but I’ll keep looking.

Next up, Pan’s Labyrinth and No Country for Old Men.

Winners of the Oscar for Best Picture

1920s: Wings (1927-28) | The Broadway Melody (1928-29)
1930s: All Quiet on the Western Front (1929-30) | Cimarron (1930-31) | Grand Hotel (1931-32) | Cavalcade (1932-33) | It Happened One Night (1934) | Mutiny on the Bounty (1935, and books) | The Great Ziegfeld (1936) | The Life of Emile Zola (1937) | You Can’t Take It with You (1938) | Gone with the Wind (1939, and book)
1940s: Rebecca (1940) | How Green Was My Valley (1941) | Mrs. Miniver (1942) | Casablanca (1943) | Going My Way (1944) | The Lost Weekend (1945) | The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) | Gentleman’s Agreement (1947) | Hamlet (1948) | All the King’s Men (1949)
1950s: All About Eve (1950) | An American in Paris (1951) | The Greatest Show on Earth (1952) | From Here to Eternity (1953) | On The Waterfront (1954, and book) | Marty (1955) | Around the World in 80 Days (1956) | The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957) | Gigi (1958) | Ben-Hur (1959)
1960s: The Apartment (1960) | West Side Story (1961) | Lawrence of Arabia (1962) | Tom Jones (1963) | My Fair Lady (1964) | The Sound of Music (1965) | A Man for All Seasons (1966) | In the Heat of the Night (1967) | Oliver! (1968) | Midnight Cowboy (1969)
1970s: Patton (1970) | The French Connection (1971) | The Godfather (1972) | The Sting (1973) | The Godfather, Part II (1974) | One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975) | Rocky (1976) | Annie Hall (1977) | The Deer Hunter (1978) | Kramer vs. Kramer (1979)
1980s: Ordinary People (1980) | Chariots of Fire (1981) | Gandhi (1982) | Terms of Endearment (1983) | Amadeus (1984) | Out of Africa (1985) | Platoon (1986) | The Last Emperor (1987) | Rain Man (1988) | Driving Miss Daisy (1989)
1990s: Dances With Wolves (1990) | The Silence of the Lambs (1991) | Unforgiven (1992) | Schindler’s List (1993) | Forrest Gump (1994) | Braveheart (1995) | The English Patient (1996) | Titanic (1997) | Shakespeare in Love (1998) | American Beauty (1999)
21st century: Gladiator (2000) | A Beautiful Mind (2001) | Chicago (2002) | The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003) | Million Dollar Baby (2004, and book) | Crash (2005) | The Departed (2006) | No Country for Old Men (2007) | Slumdog Millionaire (2008) | The Hurt Locker (2009)
2010s: The King’s Speech (2010) | The Artist (2011) | Argo (2012) | 12 Years a Slave (2013) | Birdman (2014) | Spotlight (2015) | Moonlight (2016) | The Shape of Water (2017) | Green Book (2018) | Parasite (2019)
2020s: Nomadland (2020) | CODA (2021) | Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) | Oppenheimer (2023)

June 2015 books

This is the latest post in a series I started in late 2019, anticipating the twentieth anniversary of my bookblogging which will fall in 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.

This was the month I started Instagram, which I don’t spend a lot of time on, but I do enjoy it. My first post:

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I went to London and from there to Montenegro:

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And also to Zürich:

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And Berlin.

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Pleased with this pic of my then colleague C and Captain Europe at an EU Tweetup. Captain Europe has mostly retired from being a superhero now, and C has moved to San Francisco and just had a baby.

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With the massive kerfuffle over the puppies, I read and blogged much less than usual, but still ot through 15 books.

Non-fiction: 4 (YTD 23)
Oak, by William Bryant Logan
Martial Power and Elizabethan Political Culture: Military Men in England and Ireland, 1558-1594, by Rory Rapple
Self-Portrait, by Anneke Wills
Naked by Anneke Wills

Oak Martial Power Self Portrait Naked

Fiction (non-sf): 5 (YTD 18)
The Charterhouse of Parma, by Stendhal
An Infamous Army, by Georgette Heyer
The seven-per-cent solution, by Nicholas Meyer
Sculptor’s Daughter, by Tove Jansson
The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, by Luo Guanzhong

The Charterhouse of Parma An Infamous Army The Seven Per Cent Solution Sculptors Daughter Three Kingdoms

SF (non-Who): 3 (YTD 74)
The Complete Robot, by Isaac Asimov
True History/Ἀληθῆ διηγήματα, by Lucian of Samosata
Yesterday’s Kin, by Nancy Kress

The Complete Robot True History Yesterdays Kin

Doctor Who, etc: 3 (YTD 22)
Palace of the Red Sun, by Christopher Bulis
Sometime Never…, by Justin Richards
Deadfall, by Gary Russell

Palace of the Red Sun Sometime Never... Deadfall

Comics : 0 (YTD 10)

~4,700 pages (YTD 37,450)
5/15 by women (YTD 38/144) – Wills x2, Heyer, Jansson, Kress
1/15 by PoC (YTD 11/144) – Luo

The best of these were Rory Rapple’s gripping treatment of sixteenth century Irish political violence, which you can get here, and Tove Jansson’s semi-autobiographical short story collection, which you can get here.

I was unexcited and somewhat bored by The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, which you can get here (in what may be a better translation).

My tweets

  • Fri, 16:25: RT @BrusselsTimes: Just six weeks after the Consultative Committee launched the coronavirus barometer, Belgium is already moving into ‘code…
  • Fri, 16:52: RT @AmIRightSir: Paulette Hamilton’s election in Birmingham Erdington means that 12 of the last 13 Commons by-election winners have been wo…
  • Fri, 18:51: Chaos on CatNet, by Naomi Kritzer https://t.co/oqfZmrVmEo
  • Sat, 01:57: RT @chicagoworldcon: (1/5) Don’t forget that nominations for the 2022 Hugo Awards, Lodestar Award for Best Young Adult Book, and Astounding…

Chaos on CatNet, by Naomi Kritzer

Second paragraph of third chapter:

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

Sequel to the very entertaining Catfishing on CatNet, which won the 2020 Lodestar Award. Takes the story and most of the same characters in quite a new direction with a second rather less cute AI, a riff on Pokemon Go, and a slightly divergent timeline where Minneapolis and St Paul have successfully reformed their police as demanded by Black Lives Matter. Lots of good stuff, plenty for YA readers, and older readers, to chew on. You can get it here.

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Roger Zelazny, by F. Brett Cox

Second paragraph of third chapter:

The novel-length version of Damnation Alley, which Zelazny expanded from the original novella at the suggestion of his agent, provides more explanation of how its protagonist Hell Tanner became the outlaw he is.2 On the whole, the additional material nonetheless slows the momentum of the original story, particularly when Zelazny allows himself lyrical interludes, typical of his earlier work and often quite striking in themselves, which are significantly different in tone from the rest of the narrative. There is little reason to disagree with Krulik’s conclusion that the additional material does not “really satisfy the simple requirements of an action-adventure tale” or with Zelazny’s stated preference for the novella version.3 The other three novels of the 1969–1970 period are significant achievements that, collectively, mark the conclusion of the first period of Zelazny’s career while also looking ahead to the work that would follow in the 1970s.
2 Zelazny, introduction to “Damnation Alley,” Last Defender of Camelot, 125; Lindskold, Roger Zelazny, 111.
3 Krulik, Roger Zelazny, 61; Zelazny, introduction to “Damnation Alley,” Last Defender of Camelot, 125. Compare “He Who Shapes,” which Zelazny also preferred to its novel version, The Dream Master.

It's great to see more academic attention to one of my favourite authors, with Cox strongly defending Zelazny against the allegation that after his meteoric rise in the mid-1960s, he started pumping out potboilers for money, and going through each of his novels and also his best known short stories. There are some pretty convincing biographical readings of some of Zelazny's earlier works, especially looking at the roots of "A Rose for Ecclesiastes" in his relationship with the singer Hedy West, and some good defences of the later novels (though I think it's a tough case to make for some of them).

But I'm sorry to say that I didn't get as much out of this as I did from the books on Zelazny by Carl Yoke and Jane Lindskold. There are some irritating lapses of detail. Zelazny's first wife's maiden name was Steberl, not Stebrel. The underwater version of Amber is Rebma not Remba. "All Men are Mortal" is by Simone de Beauvoir, not Jean-Paul Sartre (a particularly ironic mistake to make). A lot is made of the literary roots of Zelazny's novel Isle of the Dead, but the actual painting by Böcklin, which is explicitly referred to by the narrator, is not mentioned by Barr.

And the missing bit for me is Zelazny's own attitude to religion. His father was born in Poland; his mother was Irish-American. An only child, was he brought up with pre-Vatican II bells and smells every Sunday? Or did his fascination with mythology arise from high school and home education?

This is the latest in the University of illinois' series on Masters of Modern Science Fiction; I've read three others, of which I liked two and wasn't as impressed by the third. You can get this one here. (Amazon lists it as Volume 1, but it's at least the fifteenth in this series.)

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The War in the Air, by H. G. Wells

Second paragraph of third chapter:

To be alone in a balloon at a height of fourteen or fifteen thousand feet — and to that height Bert Smallways presently rose — is like nothing else in human experience. It is one of the supreme things possible to man. No flying machine can ever better it. It is to pass extraordinarily out of human things. It is to be still and alone to an unprecedented degree. It is solitude without the suggestion of intervention; it is calm without a single irrelevant murmur. It is to see the sky. No sound reaches one of all the roar and jar of humanity, the air is clear and sweet beyond the thought of defilement. No bird, no insect comes so high. No wind blows ever in a balloon, no breeze rustles, for it moves with the wind and is itself a part of the atmosphere. Once started, it does not rock nor sway; you cannot feel whether it rises or falls. Bert felt acutely cold, but he wasn’t mountain-sick; he put on the coat and overcoat and gloves Butteridge had discarded — put them over the “Desert Dervish” sheet that covered his cheap best suit — and sat very still for a long, time, overawed by the new-found quiet of the world. Above him was the light, translucent, billowing globe of shining brown oiled silk and the blazing sunlight and the great deep blue dome of the sky.

Next in my sequence of novels by H.G. Wells, this is one I really knew nothing about. It was written in 1907 and set in the very near future, maybe the late 1910s. Global society is suddenly and swiftly transformed by technology: the invention of a super-efficient monorail changes the dynamic of industry and commerce, and advances in aeronautic engineering make old military concepts and procedures irrelevant. Our hero, Bert Smallways, gets comically mistaken for the great British inventor Butteridge by the German war fleet, and accompanies them on their surprise attack on America. As a result of the outbreak of war, civilisation collapses.

To get the bad bits out of the way first: I don't like Wells' consistently patronising attitude to people of the social class of his protagonist. Having now read Claire Tomalin, I realise that it's overcompensation because he came from that background himself. But I still don't like it. Also, while mocking the Western fear of the Yellow Peril, he ends up there himself, including depicting a unified jihad from the Gobi Desert to Morocco. Though perhaps that can be excused as a corrective to imperial determinism, which was certainly the dominant take of his day.

The first use of aeroplanes in combat was not until 1911. (Italian planes versus Turkish troops in Libya, since you ask.) Wells depicts a world of rapidly developing technologies, with fixed-wing tactics vying with dirigible airships for usefulness. Of course in real life the airships turned out to be less useful, and military investment went into planes, but it wasn't a bad guess. He also spots the important point that air domination is not enough without a strong ground follow-up.

I think he was also unusual for his time in describing just how devastating an air-led total war would be on the global economy. His chain reaction didn't quite happen in 1939-45, but since then we've been very alert to the prospects of atomic warfare.

And I must say that a real chill went down my spine as he described a successful assault by air on New York. 2001 is not that long ago…

Still, it's a book of its time, and I couldn't really recommend it to anyone who was not, like I have become, a Wells completist. You can get it here.

My next Wells novel is A Modern Utopia, of which I know nothing.

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What’s this all about, then?

This is my blog on Livejournal, which I have been running since the spring of 2003.

With Russia's unprovoked murderous assault on Ukraine, I am actively looking at alternative hosts for this journal, preferably those which will retain as much content as possible. No criticism of the owners of Livejournal, who have provided a space for dissent as well, but I am very uncomfortable with being part of the Russian economic system at present, in however small a way.

Since late 2003, I've been using this blog as a record of (almost) every book that I have read; I read a lot (in non-plague times, I have a long commute) and wanted to keep a good note of what I read. At 200-300 books a year, that's over 4000 books that I have written up here. (These are the most recent.)

As the twentieth anniversary of my bookblogging comes closer, I've also been revisiting each month of reviews every six days or so, so you'll see some less recent reviews mentioned.

As well as books, I have been going through the films that won the Oscar for Best Picture in sequence and the films that won the Hugo or Nebula for Best Dramatic Presentation or equivalent.

And during the COVID-19 pandemic, I've been trying to keep discipline and write something about it every ten days.

Also used for occasional commentary on other stuff, but you'll find my Facebook and Twitter are more live.

Comments welcome, though sometimes quicker to email me at nicholas dot whyte at gmail dot com.

Indigo, by Clemens J. Setz

Second paragraph of third chapter:

Danach wurden der Frau fünf Kinder vorgeführt, unter denen sie tatsächlich eines mit bläulicher Aurafärbung zu erkennen meinte. Da natürlich niemand sonst im Studio diese Farbe sehen konnte, wurde ein zweiter Test gemacht: Der Frau wurden die Augen verbunden und dieselben Kinder noch einmal an ihr vorbeigeführt. Diesmal meinte die Frau, sie habe bei Nr. 3 einen stechenden Kopfschmerz empfunden. Obwohl Kind Nr. 3 nicht mit dem ursprünglich identifizierten identisch war, wurde dieses Experiment als irgendwie gelungen bewertet, zumindest klatschten die Zuschauer lange und begeistert, auch ein paar Zeitschriften brachten Artikel über die seltsame Fledermausfrau. Then five children were presented to the woman, among whom she actually claimed to pick out one with a bluish tinge to his aura. Since no one else in the studio could see this color, of course, a second test was done: The woman was blindfolded, and the same children were presented to her again. This time the woman said that with no. 3 she felt a stabbing headache. Even though child no. 3 was not the same one she had originally identified, this experiment was somehow judged a success, at least the audience clapped enthusiastically for a long time, and a few magazines published articles on the strange bat woman.

Indigo syndrome is a condition that makes people feel seriously ill if they are near you. Clemens Setz (a fictional character in the novel by the writer of the same name) used to teach at an institute for children with Indigo syndrome, but got fired. Apart from that I found it really difficult to follow what was going on, though it did remind me of The Capital by Robert Menasse, the other Austrian novel I read recently. You can get it here.

This was the sf book that had lingered longest unread on my shelves, and also the top unread book that I acquired in 2015. Next on those oiles are Hive Monkey, by Gareth Powell, and Valley of Lights, by Steve Gallagher.

0356502589.01._SX99_SY142_SCLZZZZZZZ_[1].jpg

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