The Kalahari Typing School for Men
(The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency #4) by Alexander McCall SmithRead: 4/21/08-4/29/08
LibraryThing tags: Mystery, Africa, Sonderbook (click here for Sondy's review)
Yay, yay, Botswana book, yay, yay! What can I say? These books are just fun. And while the tone remains quite consistently lovely, I think they might be getting better and better. They seem to be more and more unified you see, and less and less collections of cases and musings. There are still musings (and cases, of course), but now more space is given to the character story arcs. This is good. Makes 'em pretty much perfect. Yeah yeah, I'm still only giving this one a four out of five stars on LibraryThing, but I'm selective with my 4 1/2s and 5s. It's got to be a favorite book. I love these, and it's close, but... no, not yet at least. Maybe sometime.
And that's pretty much it. Good night, all!
Morality for Beautiful Girls (The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency #3) by Alexander McCall Smith
Read: 2/10/08-4/20/08
LibraryThing tags: Mystery, Africa, Sonderbook (click here for Sondy's review)
If you liked the earlier two books, you will probably like this one. And why wouldn't you like the other two? As always, this one was a delight to read. The individual cases were interesting, Mma Ramotswe was funny, wise and endearing, and the developments in the overall story arc made the cake. Well, I had one small quibble, but... the more I think about it, the more unjustified that quibble was. So now I don't. I only wish the stories of their personal lives would unfold more quickly. But that just means I need to keep reading. You can't rush these things.
"Mma Ramotswe had got out of the habit of a cooked lunch, except at weekends, and was happy with a snack or a glass of milk. She had a taste for sugar, however, and this meant that a doughnut or a cake might follow the sandwich. She was a traditionally built lady, after all, and she did not have to worry about dress size, unlike those poor, neurotic people who were always looking in mirrors and thinking that they were too big. What was too big, anyway? Who was to tell another person what size they should be? It was a form of dictatorship, by the thin, and she was not having any of it. If these thin people became any more insistent, then the more generously sized people would just have to sit on them. Yes, that would teach them! Hah!"
"Aedhira" being the temporary/tentative name of my novel. Now, these scenes won't necessarily remain. Just something I threw together on my breaks at work. I'd been thinking about what I was going to share at writing group that night, and how I'd have to share something from later in Aedhira, since I didn't have a beginning yet. But, much as I like the scenes with Tessa, some of them sort of have spoilers. I used to have a beginning (or two?), but then the plot changed and it (they?) became unusable. So, instead of sharing a later scene, I wrote myself a new beginning. I've only changed this a bit since sharing this with the writing group. Added some names. All names are tentative, although extras are even more so than main characters. I really need to go through and figure out the languages better before I can truly create good names... The plot may change again, plus I'm not sure how much I like this anyway (see comments after story)... but anyway. Here it is, hope you like it, and I'll have more comments afterward.
Tardev glanced over his shoulder repeatedly, but kept riding into the forest. He had heard any number of tales about these woods, some of them from trustworthy folk, but he didn't see any other choice. No one would follow him here. No one would return him to the gypsies. There were only a few places like that left in the world to turn to. Better this than to run to the fey. Still.... he kept his horse to a walk, and his hand kept wandering back to his sword. This forest was supposed to be filled with witches, shape-shifters. Maybe ghosts, too. It was a strange place. He was hoping the tales were at least a little bit exaggerated, because he needed to live here, not just pass through. The lands beyond the forest belonged to the fey, and they were supposed to be even worse than whatever lived here. Who knows, maybe the woods were empty now of whatever had originally caused the stories. He could hope.
* * * (centered, as blogger won't allow)
Lariel cautiously peered around her tree. It wasn't a great hiding place, but it should do, as long as the Defender didn't head straight towards her. She'd just change into her unicorn form and make a dash for it. Pilat was the Defender, and he was slow. He was just an otter. In human form he wasn't a bad runner, but he couldn't compete with a unicorn. And since they weren't playing in the water, he didn't stand a chance as an otter.
Pilat was coming in this general direction, but wasn't coming right to her. He hadn't seen her. Her heart beat fast, and she wished Tidhana were playing. She always helped her. But now she was saying she was too old to play. Hanging around the throne room, as though she were going to be the queen tomorrow instead of decades from now.
She heard something rustle near her, and held her breath. Had Pilat come this way while she was daydreaming? Maybe she could still run past him... she peered out. No one was there. Maybe a mouse had been sneaking through. Though why a mouse would bother to hide this far from the "castle" tree, she didn't know. She tried to make herself still and silent again.
She stood there. And stood. This was getting boring. She'd almost rather be caught. It was probably time to run. She peeked out again. He was nowhere in sight. That probably meant he was far enough away she could make it. She changed in a blink and galloped forward. Ah, there he was. He saw her, but was busy chasing Fisha and wouldn't catch her. Triumphantly she reached the tree and changed back to human, grinning at Lani, Sytu, and :Zhina, who were already there. Horse, hawk, mouse. Happily she watched the chases and the sneakings to the tree as the game wound down. Pilat did catch a couple, despite his otter handicap. He even managed to surprise Niad, a deer normally good at the game. But not her, not her.
They were arguing about who should be Defender next when they saw Rizh running towards them. They all stopped and watched him. He was too old to play. He was so old it was unusual to even see him run. Something exciting must be happening. As he neared, he called out, "Stranger in the woods." He huffed a little, came closer, and stopped. "You should all go back to the castle." He meant the real one, of course, not the game one. Lariel felt a sinking in her stomach. Many protested, asking to come help scare the strange man, but she knew she never could. She was a unicorn. Outsiders, xlefa, must never see her. Not in her unicorn shape, anyway. And as a human... well, maybe if she hid well enough she could scare him a bit. But they would never let her. She sighed and started walking home, away from the babble of arguing voices.
So that's it, at the moment. Short, but sweet? I've been doing a decent amount of writing recently, for once, although a lot of it has been plot work. Hopefully I'll get it nailed down pretty well soon, and either way, I think I should be able to write a continuation to this now.
Incidentally, although this is more important later on, the word "gypsy" may be misleading. I may still continue to use it, as the best English equivalent, but it describes a people group that doesn't exist in our world. Some of the typical attitudes towards gypsies would apply, but not all of them. And they're not the same people.
That very beginning part feels a little corny to me for an intro. I hope it's okay because I immediately undercut it with the next scene, but aren't you supposed to hook readers with your first words, not your second paragraph? I think (if it works) it's a funny effect, talking about dangerous ominous places that end up being peopled by kids playing the equivalent of hide-and-go-seek, but... don't know if it's ideal, or if that really comes across.
Is there not enough exposition? Too much? Are you confused, or does the action not flow well enough because of exposition interruptions? It's not as much an issue here, but I'm also worried in later scenes that I spend too much time on Lariel's or Tessa's internal monologues and not enough on actual action. I would have liked to use the first person point of view, but that's not really workable when you have to switch perspectives to other characters. My Weekend Novelist book tells me that beginners shouldn't try multiple protagonists, but I can't help it. The story started out being about Lariel (who is older in most of the book), but then Tessa just had to draw more and more attention to herself. She most certainly won't leave. That would never do. But I highly doubt Lariel will either. ::sigh::
Oh, and one more worry -- this beginning sets a rather light tone, but it's not going to be a light book. In fact, the more I think about how to answer the question, "What is it a story about?" the more I think the answer is slavery, and its effects on my fantasy world in general, and my main characters in particular. (Note to self: need to do more research on our world's current slave trade and its effects.) So... is this false advertising? =) I suppose it's okay -- part of the reason I'd been wanting to write a scene like this is because you have to show happiness and such for the reader to feel its loss with the characters. Hmmm....
Critique, answer my questions, please. Or I'll have to throw oatmeal at you, and you don't want that. Messy, and I won't sweeten it with honey, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon
Read: 2/12/06-3/26/06
Don't think I ever put it on LibraryThing (site's down for the evening, can't check); but if I had, I would probably tag it as TWN Novel, Historical Fiction, Pulitzer, Comic Books, WWII. Or something like that.
Now, yes, I did read this a couple years ago. However, I recently rediscovered a document of book reviews I'd been intending to blog little by little, giving me a bit of time to be sure I liked what I'd written before posting them. Gave them more time than they needed... This is from that cache. I originally wrote it soon after finishing the book, I believe.
I’m afraid this is the first novel I’ve read in quite some time which isn’t fantasy, or historical fiction, or children’s fiction, or even Christian romance. Oh wait, it is historical fiction. Um. Well, it’s not too similar to most historical fiction I’ve read. Anyway. It’s quite good.
The story begins in 1939, as comic books first exploded in popularity, with two Jewish boys who gain the opportunity to publish their own comic books. As they come up with their hero and his story, you feel with them the thrill of discovery, of finding a Good Idea.
You learn quite a bit about the period as you go along, one reason I would recommend it. It's fascinating to see all the facets history books divide up under various chapters and headings integrated into a cohesive history. It was a little too “realistic” for me, though. The ending left me a little cold – the sort of book that makes you say, “Is that all there is? Oh.”
I found the reality and escapism theme fascinating, though. Exactly what in the book was facing reality and what was escaping it could be a bit confusing (I’m still not entirely sure which was which, or was considered which by the author), but it was certainly interesting to think about.
“It was the voicing of a vain wish, when you got down to it, to escape. To slip, like the Escapist, free of the entangling chain of reality and the straitjacket of physical laws. Harry Houdini had roamed the Palladiums and Hippodromes of the world encumbered by an entire cargo-hold of crates and boxes, stuffed with chains, iron hardware, brightly painted flats and hokum, animated all the while only by this same desire, never fulfilled: truly to escape, if only for one instant; to poke his head through the borders of this world, with its harsh physics, into the mysterious spirit world that lay beyond. The newspaper articles that Joe had read about the upcoming Senate investigation into comic books always cited ‘escapism’ among the litany of injurious consequences of their reading, and dwelled on the pernicious effect, on young minds, of satisfying the desire to escape. As if there could be any more noble or necessary service in life.”
“Having lost his… [cut to minimize spoilers] …the friends and foes of his youth…[same reason] …his city, his history – his home – the usual charge leveled aginst comic books, that they offered merely an easy escape from reality, seemed to Joe actually to be a powerful argument on their behalf. He had escaped, in his life, from ropes, chains, boxes, bags, and crates, from handcuffs and shackles, from countries and regimes, from the arms of a woman who loved him, from crashed airplanes and an opiate addiction and from an entire frozen continent intent on causing his death. The escape from reality was, he felt – especially right after the war – a worthy challenge.”
“The pain of his loss – though he would never have spoken of it in these terms – was always with him in those days, a cold smooth ball lodged in his chest, just behind his sternum. For that half hour spent in the dappled shade of the Douglas firs, reading Betty and Veronica, the icy ball had melted away without him even noticing. That was magic – not the apparent magic of the silk-hatted card-palmer, or the bold, brute trickery of the escape artist, but the genuine magic of art. It was a mark of how fucked-up and broken was the world – the reality – that had swallowed his home… …that such a feat of escape, by no means easy to pull off, should remain so universally despised.”
I still don’t know. I normally find when I’ve returned from that world reality hurts even more, the icy ball has grown larger rather than melting. If it melted for him, perhaps it is magic. But at any rate, that last quote demonstrates the hopelessness of the modern novel that turns me away from it. Yeah, it’s honest. That’s the world without God, the world when you believe that the qualities to be found in a world of escape are nowhere to be found in this age or the age to come. No thank you. On the other hand, I agree in some ways. Escape is not always a bad thing, let alone something to be despised (see first quote).
“‘Jewish superheroes?’
‘What, they’re all Jewish, superheroes. Superman, you don’t think he’s Jewish? Coming over from the old country, changing his name like that. Clark Kent, only a Jew would pick a name like that for himself.’” –Joe and Sammy
