January 2004 books

In anticipation of the 25th anniversary of my bookblogging, which will come in late 2028, I’m reposting my monthly summaries since November 2003 when I started. (I already did this in 2019-2023, but this gives me a chance to consolidate all the posts and links to this WordPress site rather than my old Livejournal.) Everything will be linked under the bookblog nostalgia tag.

The most crucial event of January 2004 was that little U took her first steps, at 13 months.

My first work outing of the year was to the Liberals’ New Year reception in Brussels, after which I note that I had an awful lot of whisky with MEP Graham Watson. I was on a panel with the Bosnian and Croatian foreign ministers as well. (Fraser Cameron sitting between them.) This was shortly after returning from a conference on Moldova in Munich.

We also did a report for the new Independent Monitoring Commission in Northern Ireland, comparing its mission with Balkan equivalents. This was also the month that I started to seriously strategise about getting a job with the new European Commission due to take office at the end of the year. (Spoiler: I didn’t get a job there in the end.)

I read 9 books that month.

Non-fiction 3
Home Rule: An Irish History 1800-2000, by Alvin Jackson
Samuel Pepys: The Unequalled Self, by Claire Tomalin
The Procrastinator’s Handbook: Mastering the Art of Doing It Now. by Rita Emmett

SF 5
1610: A Sundial in a Grave, by Mary Gentle
Looking Backward: from 2000 to 1887, by Edward Bellamy
The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien
From the Dust Returned, by Ray Bradbury
The Best of Lester Del Rey

Comics 1
Death: The High Cost of Living, by Neil Gaiman

3,900 pages
3/9 by women
none by PoC

The Lord of the Rings is of course one of my favourite books ever, but that was a re-read (you can get it here if you still need to). My best new book this month was Claire Tomalin’s Samuel Pepys, which is superb and made me a real Pepys fanboy (and also a bit of a Claire Tomalin fan). You can get it here.

The one to skip: disappointed by 1610.

March books 6) The Gambler’s Fortune

6) The Gambler’s Fortune, by Juliet E. McKenna

Darn it, browser crashed the first time I tried to post this. I should switch to the email interface.

Another trans-Atlantic flight means another chance to make inroads on my to-read list. Last night’s flight started a lot later than the one from Paris on Monday and I was also much more tired, so only got through two books this time. The first was The Gambler’s Fortune, by Juliet E. McKenna.

I confess that I hadn’t heard of Juliet McKenna before meeting her at P-Con in Dublin last September. But we got on very well on a personal level then, and so I’ve been working my way through her books ever since. And they are good books. I’m not really into Big Commercial Fantasy on the whole (and at 500+ pages per volume, her works are certainly in that sub-genre) but on the basis of my brief encounters with the sub-genre, her work scores well above the average in at least three respects.

First, oddly enough, is the fact that the books are clearly rooted in role-playing. (McKenna makes no bones about this in any of her interviews.) It seems to me that this has a fundamental impact on the way the books are structured – you have a campaign, you have to begin it and end it, you have to provide a certain rate of incidence of exciting events, the characters are classified into particular categories (magic-user, warrior, thief) – but this is no bad thing. If the fundamentals of your universe are sound, then that provides a much firmer basis for the story. Elsewhere I’ve compared McKenna favourably to Raymond E. Feist, and more favourable comparisons follow below.

Second is the fact that there are no non-human nasties. All of McKenna’s villains (and heroes) are people like us. The breadth and variety of human cultures depicted in her world is something I have only seen surpassed by George R.R. Martin (Tolkien loses on this score by having too many Elves, Dwarves and Ents). To this she injects a conflict between two different kinds of magic which are mutually incomprehensible. And population pressures are driving technological and economic change in a fantasy environment. On top of that, as you would hope for from an Oxford graduate in Classics, there is a whole store of knowledge from the ancients waiting to be decoded. Good stuff.

Third is the sex. McKenna is no Silverberg or Delany (let alone a Jacqueline Carey, whose Kushiel’s Avatar is next-but-one on my “to read” list). But it is really refreshing to encounter protagonists who are not young folks going through a rite-of-passage narrative, but people much nearer to my own age, juggling the conflicting needs of a demanding career with the need for a decent home life. OK, so McKenna’s characters are battling to save their continent from the evil invader rather than analysing the Balkan Question (like me) or writing best-selling novels (like Juliet). But I still feel a much greater sympathy for them than I do with the protagonists of Eddings’ Belgariad (let alone Jordan’s woeful Wheel of Time).

Anyway, The Gambler’s Fortune is a worthy third book in the series, and I’ll be looking out for the others.